Almost Karma
by BluWhispers
Summary: They say that what goes around comes around - and this time Cloud is given a chance to get what he wants. Back at the beginning. SephirothCloud.
1. Chapter 1

**Almost Karma**

**By BluWhispers**

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.

**Warnings**: Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

**A/N**: I've caught the time-travel bug.

Vincent had once mentioned Karma and the Three-Fold Law. Cloud had only listened with half an ear - more focused on trying to get drunk enough to forget that he was trying to save the world. He remembered Cid's response though.

_Fuck you_.

And then the Triplets happened.

_Fuck you indeed._

Now Cloud was trying to get drunk enough to forget that he had saved the world, twice. It was a losing battle – Mako and years of almost painful control over his emotions had burned away any traces of human weakness. Tifa was doing her best to help though, as she always did. Cocktail after cocktail of almost 100% alcohol was put into his hands as she tried every recipe she could think of. He could tell she was tempted to just douse him with it intravenously, and she probably would have, if it wasn't for the fact that Cloud did not react well to needles of any kind.

Still, the thought of being able to get drunk for the first time in a long time gave the idea some merit. Even though he'd probably die from the alcohol in his bloodstream; but that too was a welcome thought.

If Tifa knew she'd skip the drinks and just knock him out.

The ceiling fans in Seventh Heaven kicked at the air lazily, and the nostalgic golden light of sunset was really making Cloud wish for some manner of oblivion. He didn't like these times: these quiet, introspective moments that crept up on him and seized him like an ex-wife after alimony payments. He was getting them far too often these days – it was almost enough to make him wish he had some omnipotent enemy to hunt down, if only to give him something to focus on.

As long as said omnipotent enemy didn't have long silver hair and piercing green eyes. Because Cloud really didn't think he had it in him to kill Sephiroth again.

_Third time's a charm_.

Maybe if he faced Sephiroth again he'd be able to shove him deep into his memories for good. Or maybe Sephiroth and he would finally kill each other once and for all. Then Cloud wouldn't have to sit here in Seventh Heaven and drink through all of Tifa's booze.

It was a pleasant notion.

A clatter, and another glass filled to the brim with enough alcohol to knock even Cid out with its smell was pushed into his hand. He gulped it down without a second's hesitation, slamming it down on the worn wooden counter and waited for it to hit him, waited for any sign that it would help stop his mind from churning through memories and faces.

No such luck. He was as alert as ever. He heard Tifa sigh in frustration, and he felt bad for her. She was trying to help, and if he was a more out-spoken man, he would have told her how much he appreciated her understanding, her almost-devotion that caused her to put up with his almost-psychotic behavior, caused her to open her doors to him at all hours of the day and night and empty her best liquor into his hopelessly scarred stomach.

But he wasn't an out-spoken man: he wasn't Zack, and he would never be Zack. No matter how convinced he'd been otherwise. But that was a long time ago, a lifetime ago, when he'd been whacked out of his mind and wandering around in an almost-daze.

_Goddammit._

He'd been trying his best not to think of Zack. Because the memories would just assail him with the force of Yuffie's shrieks, and then he'd have to think about how much he missed that black-haired almost-friend of his.

_I'm such an almost-person. _

And that was exactly it. Cloud knew he was dysfunctional, knew he was incomplete. And he knew that no matter what he did he would never be whole, because a huge part of him had been ripped out and mangled and shoved back into his blond head with such viciousness and fury and cruelty that the memories of life before AVALANCHE were spotty at best, and would always be spotty. Like a part of him was just taunting him, reminding him of how much of himself had been lost and would never be found.

He'd known today was going to be bad. Just as it always was on the anniversary of her death.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tifa mixing up another drink, and suddenly he really wished she would take that pink ribbon off her arm because he really didn't need another reminder of his ineptitude.

_No "almosts" there_.

Another drink, and this time he took it slow, nursed it as though treating it with patience might help make it The One.

_This isn't one of her flowers, idiot_.

Long hair whispered over his hand, and irrationally he wished it was silver and not black. But it was just Tifa leaning against the bar, her hands placed on either side of Cloud's, looking at him with that sadness and compassion and understanding that made Cloud think that she pitied him his life.

He knew she didn't though, because then she'd have to admit that she felt sorry for herself too. Not that her life hadn't been hard, but it'd certainly been a picnic compared to his.

Not that he would wish his life on anyone – he didn't want anyone else to suffer what he'd had.

He studied her, just to give himself something to look at that wasn't inanimate or inhuman. Because Tifa had never been inanimate or inhuman, she was as warm as they came. And a part of him wished that he could love her the way she loved him, because maybe that would help ease his pain. But instead he just felt worse, because he could never give her a part of himself that he'd lost lifetimes ago.

He'd given her that ring just to tell her that he would always love her as Tifa. She'd understood, she always did.

Maybe it would have been better if she hadn't, because then he wouldn't come to Seventh Heaven whenever he needed someone to be there for him.

But then where would he go? There was no place in this world he hadn't already been to multiple times – sometimes to hunt, sometimes to deliver, sometimes just to think and reflect and almost-cry.

Sighing, he downed the rest of his drink and stood. Tifa just looked at him with that sorrow in her sweet brown eyes, and he thought of kissing her before he left. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, not because he wasn't an affectionate man (everyone knew he wasn't anyway), but because it wasn't her he wanted to kiss.

_Stop it. Just stop it._

He nodded at her once, and she offered him an almost-smile. Then he turned and left, not bothering to drop a bag of Gil on the bar because the last time he'd tried had been the last time. She'd looked like she was about to sic her Final Heaven attack on him, and that wouldn't have been good for Denzel or Marlene to see. Might give them ideas.

As usual Fenrir had drawn a crowd, everyone from Midgar to Wutai to the Northern Crater recognizing it as Cloud Strife's bike. And everyone knew Cloud Strife, everyone wanted to see him, be a part of his life, because he had saved their world twice and he was a goddamned hero.

He hated that word, and at times like these he hated these people he'd helped.

They gave him a wide berth, even though he could tell some of them wanted to throw themselves at him, or at least shake his hand or talk to him. But his taciturn and almost-cold nature was as infamous as his battle prowess, and Tifa had warned as many as she could about the ill-effects of going near Cloud Strife when he didn't initiate the contact.

He straddled Fenrir, powered it up, and took off.

If only he could leave the hopelessness behind as easily as he left Edge in the dust.

-----

Aeris had perfected the Art of Voyeurism in her time as part of the Lifestream. She could move between thoughts and dreams and places as easily as the Prom Queen through high school. But there was only ever one person she watched, and she really wished she could talk to him, or at least show him that she was there, that she hadn't left him, and that she really wished he would stop beating himself up over all the things that had gone wrong in his life.

But all she could do was watch and wish. After the Triplets, she had lost the ability to communicate with Cloud. She wondered if it was because he'd lost a part of himself when he killed Sephiroth a second time. She knew it wasn't because he'd forgotten her or his guilt.

She'd known that today would be a bad day. Known as soon as the sun rose that Cloud would be driven out of his home by the demons in his heart, that he would ride Fenrir like a maniac and end up at Tifa's trying to drink himself to death.

And just as always, he would leave perfectly sober and ride like a junkie on a trip to the Forgotten Capital. If it wasn't for the fact that he was Cloud Strife, he'd have broken his neck ages ago.

_Twelve minutes faster than last year._

Cloud was just sitting there, staring into the water. Fenrir had steam coming off its tyres, that was how fast Cloud had pushed his beloved motorcycle. There was a little trickle of blood winding its way down the alabaster skin of his right cheek from when a stray stone had nicked him in his flight from the past, but he didn't seem to notice.

No, it wasn't that. She knew he noticed. Cloud noticed everything, every little thing that people did or didn't do, every little smell and sound and sight and thought and action. It was just that he didn't care anymore, hadn't cared in a long time, and that hurt her more than the sight of his blood on his skin.

As she watched him, sitting there looking as despondent as he always did on this day, she remembered that almost-insane notion that she'd gotten some time ago.

_Put him through it again? Have I really no heart?_

But at times like these, when Cloud looked like he really wanted to cry if he could only remember how to, she could almost believe that making her idea a reality was the best thing anyone could do for the broken hero.

When Cloud buried his head in his hands and wrenched at his hair, howling in impotent rage and despair, she made up her mind.

_What goes around comes around. But this time, it'll be different._

Taking a deep breath, or as deep a breath as a spirit could take, she _pushed_. And she watched as Cloud fell into the waters of the Forgotten Capital and fell through time.

_I hope this helps, Cloud._

With that, she closed her eyes and moved – she had things to do.

-----

Tifa was still staring at the door when the sounds of Fenrir had faded to nothing. She couldn't bring herself to move even her eyes. The cloud of despair that rained over Cloud 24/7 had gotten to her, and sometimes she wished Cloud would just take his pain and shove it right up a Chocobo's arse.

She instantly regretted thinking that, just as she always did whenever she got mad with Cloud for not being strong enough to deal with his pain and regret. She knew he had it rough, rougher than the rest of them, and she suspected she knew why. She didn't like it, but she'd come to accept it. Because that was all she could do. Accept it and be there for Cloud whenever he came in looking like a lost little boy who'd had his favorite toy broken over his head multiple times; or reject it and in so doing reject Cloud.

No one could reject Cloud, not after everything he'd sacrificed for them.

Outside, she could hear the people talking, as they always did whenever Cloud had blown through town like the force of Nature that he was. For all that he tried to be invisible and un-noticed, he attracted attention like Materia attracted Yuffie.

She could hear them talk about how handsome he was, how perfectly and beautifully formed his features were, how brilliantly his baby blue eyes shone; stupid, stupid things that made her skin crawl and made her wish she could use civilians for punching bags. It wasn't that she disliked them noticing Cloud's looks, and she knew all too well how mesmerizing he was physically. It was because these people didn't realize how much it had taken for Cloud to become so strong and muscular and lean and powerful; and they certainly didn't know how many scars littered his body. Mako and Materia and potions could only do so much, and Cloud had long ago stopped letting her patch him up because she could never hold back the little gasp or look of horror every time she bore witness to his past.

She sighed then, if only to fill the air with a sound that wasn't adulation or adoration over a blond-haired man with more emotional baggage than a bunch of Prozac-dependent adolescents.

"Again?"

A deep voice startled her, making her spin around and shoot her fist into a golden claw before the voice registered.

_You can take the man out of the Turks, but you'll never take the Turk out of the man._

"Hello Vincent." She tried for a smile, but she knew it was wan. He'd let her hand go as soon as that light of recognition hit her eyes, and he'd settled himself into the same bar-stool that Cloud had vacated awhile ago.

He grunted in response.

_You've been spending too much time with Cloud. _

She mixed him up a drink, not as potent as the ones she'd made for Cloud, because Cloud was a machine and practically insane, and Vincent was just a man with Protomateria in his body.

He nursed it as Cloud had done with his last drink, and she told herself to stop seeing Cloud in everything around her.

_Get a grip, girl. _

They were quiet for awhile, and Tifa took the opportunity to clean the numerous glasses strewn all over her bar from Cloud's very solemn and very depressing visit. She knew that soon enough Barret and Cid would come barreling through the doors, and that they would again be disappointed that Cloud hadn't hung around long enough for them to see him. But she also knew that secretly they would be relieved that he wasn't there – not because they didn't want to see him, no. They loved Cloud dearly, everyone did. But because every time they were around, Cloud would force himself to act like everything was alright, like he wasn't hurting. And it was that knowledge, the fact that Cloud was still trying to make everything OK for them, that they hated. Because Cloud had done enough for them: too much, in fact. And they couldn't do anything for him.

The sound of running water filled the wooden haven of Seventh Heaven. Tifa refused to have anything cold and metallic in her bar, and only the sink and the necessary bar utensils were a disgusting hard grey. Wood was warm, organic, nurturing. At least it was to her. Cloud had once said wood was just dead plants. It had taken all of her willpower not to break his face.

"He told me he couldn't talk to her anymore."

Vincent's old voice, so different from his deceptively young appearance, startled her from her act of washing high-ball glasses. She almost dropped the one she was holding, and only years of training and reflexes kept it from shattering on the scuffed floor.

She turned the tap off and looked at Vincent. She could wash the stupid glasses later. Barret and Cid didn't need fresh glasses for every drink, and Seventh Heaven was closed to the public today.

She didn't need to ask who it was that Cloud couldn't talk to anymore.

She wished Cloud had told her that. Wished she didn't have to hear it from a shape-shifting immortal who was so much like the blond it hurt. Because even though Vincent resembled Cloud in so many ways, he would never be Cloud.

Vincent would never be broken enough to be Cloud.

She didn't know what to say, but apparently Vincent knew she wouldn't. He always liked saying things that stunned others into silence. It was why Cid and Barret cursed so fluently around him – he enjoyed dropping verbal bombs on people.

Tifa turned, started mixing a drink for herself. God knew she needed one. Cloud had the ability to drain the life out of anyone by being Mr Morose. Every time he came to visit her, she could feel a little part of herself breaking. His visits were wearing down her natural optimism and spirit, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him to cheer up or else. It would be selfish, and Tifa had never been a selfish person. Perhaps when she'd been a child; and young and naïve and selfish as all children are. But not anymore. Not after all that she'd been through, all that she'd watched Cloud suffer through.

She spilled a little of her drink into the ashtray as she turned back to face Vincent: that silly incongruous ashtray that Denzel and Marlene had painted for Cloud. He'd taken up smoking after the whole Triplets Incident, but he never smoked around the children.

_Always looking out for everyone else._

She stared at the butts left behind, crushed by strong, calloused fingers. And she wished that there was something, some drug or drink or potion that would make Cloud's pain go away.

She remembered Cloud after he'd killed Sephiroth the first time. He'd seemed to have found some peace at first, and she'd stupidly hoped they could settle down and be a family.

Then she noticed that he'd stopped sleeping or eating, and had started working on his bike. When it was done, he told her it was called Fenrir. And then he'd started his delivery business.

She'd understood. Cloud had never really had a home. Nibelheim had too many cruel memories, and, try as she might, she could never give him the home that he'd always longed for. She told herself that it was alright, because no matter how far Cloud wandered, he always came back to Seventh Heaven.

She'd thought he was happy with his job – he was certainly sleeping and eating again. But then she started noticing the little downturn of his mouth when he thought she wasn't looking, and the way he preferred to sleep with his back against the wall, holding First Tsurugi so tightly in his right hand that the veins stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. He'd only slept like that when they'd been chasing Sephiroth, and she'd wondered if he was doing it again because maybe he could keep the demons at bay that way.

After the Terrible Trio, he'd seemed better. Not fantastic, and certainly not cheerful, but better. No longer dragging around such a terrible weight.

Or maybe that was just because his Geostigma was gone.

He'd started spending more and more time away from Edge, away from her and the children and their little circle of friends. It seemed only Vincent saw him more than twice a month – and that was only because Vincent was a wanderer like Cloud. The rest of them had settled down, built homes for themselves, moved on. Cid had married Shera, and the word was that she was pregnant and making him smoke outside the house. He'd cussed long and loudly, it seemed. Then he'd just built himself a nice little gazebo, and Yuffie had given him an obnoxiously pink deckchair.

Yuffie had taken up the reins of Wutai, although she was still wont to wander around stealing Materia. The rest of them had given up trying to tell her that it wasn't the kind of thing a lady did. She never did figure out that Cloud always managed to steal Materia off her whenever he visited – she was still trying to catch that elusive little thief that seemed to be plaguing Wutai.

Barret had become quite a wealthy man, amassing a fortune in the oil trade. He was generous to a fault though, and most of his funds were spent on building homes and schools and clinics. He'd put enough aside to ensure that Marlene and Denzel would never have to work a day in their lives. That was the first thing he'd done with his money, and Tifa would never forget the day he'd strode into her bar, practically _glowing_ with pride, and the way he'd picked her, Marlene, and Denzel up in a bone-crushing hug, just because he couldn't talk - he was so overjoyed. He'd tried to give Tifa money too, tried to give her more than she could spend in a lifetime, but the only thing she accepted was his help in remodeling her bar.

She liked her work. It made her feel useful, wanted.

If she didn't keep Seventh Heaven running, where would Cloud run to?

_The past._

Her head snapped up, and she spun around, eyes searching wildly for the source of that long-dead voice. Vincent had Cerberus drawn too, and was trying to find a target.

They looked at each other, and instantly made for the old church.

-----

Aeris sighed and wondered for the umpteenth time if she'd made the right decision. Not with regards to sending Cloud back, no; but she wondered if she should be saying anything to Tifa and Vincent. She knew they'd worry over Cloud, knew that they worried about him all the time. She just didn't want them finding Fenrir abandoned in the Forgotten Capital, with no Cloud in sight.

_Let's just get this over with._

Steeling herself, she turned just as the doors to the church burst open and two dark-haired warriors stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing her.

She smiled at them, it was easy to. She loved them dearly, and their flabbergasted expressions were hilarious. She would have teased them about it too, if she had more time here, and if it wasn't draining the Planet terribly to give her a more corporeal form.

"Hello." Her voice, though weak and thin with the amount of effort it was taking for her to speak to them and appear before them, seemed to break the trance, and Tifa's mouth worked as though she was trying to form words.

"I haven't got much time here," Aeris continued, ignoring how Tifa was surreptitiously pinching herself to ensure it wasn't a dream. "I just wanted to tell you that Cloud's safe. But he won't be coming back, at least not for a while."

At the mention of Cloud, Vincent and Tifa started as though electrified, and a thousand questions came bubbling out at once. Aeris didn't try to answer them, she just repeated that Cloud would be fine (she hoped) and then she closed her eyes and sank back into the little lake that had formed in her church.

_Please be OK, Cloud._

-----

Vincent was the first to break the trance, and he moved forward almost cautiously before peering into the pool. He didn't see anything but his own reflection and the petals that always floated by the edges; not that he'd been expecting to see anything.

_Ancients._

He turned back to Tifa, who had been rendered immobile. She looked heart-broken, and he knew that if he'd been a less emotionally-constipated man, he'd be wearing the same despondent look on his face. Instead, he walked out of the church, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder as he passed her, and then he practically flew to the Forgotten Capital. He knew he wouldn't find Cloud there: knew with a certainty that he hated that Cloud was long gone, gone to a long-ago time. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that he wanted to go back too, if only to stop Lucrecia from turning away from him.

_That would have prevented the entire Sephiroth fiasco, and that would have prevented a lot of things._

But he knew that it was Cloud who had the strongest links to the past, and it was Cloud who still carried Sephiroth and Jenova in his blood just as he carried the memories of them on his shoulders.

Vincent knew that the only thing he could do for his friend now was to take care of Fenrir, on the off chance that Cloud ever returned.

-----

Cloud hadn't had a hangover in a long time, but he could have sworn this is what it felt like. Which was odd for any number of reasons, but mostly because he could've sworn he'd left Tifa's sober as a monk.

Habit made his senses sharpen, even though he wished he could just go back to sleep. It had been fitful, as always, but at least it had been dreamless. The nightmares had been plaguing him a little too much recently.

_There shouldn't be anyone here._

He could tell that there were others around him, even though the last thing he remembered was being at the Forgotten Capital – cursing his traitorous body for not being able to get drunk, cursing his traitorous eyes for not being able to tear, cursing his traitorous mind for not being able to leave his memories buried, cursing himself for not being able to save Aeris and Zack, and then just cursing Life and Fate and that asshole Murphy for everything that went wrong.

His eyes snapped open, and instantly he wished they hadn't. The light, albeit weak, hurt. And then, even though it pained him to do so, he rolled to his feet, one hand reaching for Tsurugi, the other going into a defensive guard.

And then it hit him, like a train hitting an errant insect.

_This isn't happening. This isn't real._

Around him were fifteen others: young boys still sleeping, snoring away in this military room that reeked of sweat and old socks and cheap alcohol.

_Cadet bunks._

That knowledge made him stagger, and he dropped ungracefully back to the lumpy mattress behind him. He hadn't been anything but graceful in a long time, but now, as he looked at his thin, gangly limbs, he wished he hadn't woken up.

_This is just an illusion._

Except illusions and dreams didn't feel this real, didn't have this much detail. He could feel the cold floor beneath his bare feet, the cool air on his neck from the vents, the headache pounding in his skull, and his heart thundering in his chest.

He glanced at himself, and then he propelled himself off the bed and down the hall, into the communal bathrooms. He got there just in time to empty what appeared to be a bar-full of last night's liquor into the ceramic commode, and as soon as the first wave of shock was over, he retched again and again and again until his stomach ached with having nothing else to throw up.

He sat there on the cold tiled floor even though it was making him shiver. He hadn't had an illness in a very long time, and he'd gotten used to ignoring aches and pains. The vomit stank though, and he raised himself to his feet with an effort, flushing the toilet and heading to the sinks. He washed his face with the heavily-chlorinated water, and then he just stared at his reflection in the chipped mirror.

_No._

He was fifteen again.

His eyes weren't glowing, and he'd almost forgotten that they hadn't always been such a vivid blue. Not that he looked at himself in mirrors much – he couldn't bear to face the proof of Hojo's experiments. But he'd caught enough glimpses of himself before to know that his eyes should have been much brighter than the bloodshot ones staring wildly back at him now.

His face was thinner, slight traces of puppy fat still in his cheeks. His face would fill out later, become more angular and more tanned. He would have a man's face. Not this childish visage with its untamable mop of hair that resembled a Chocobo's backside more than anything. At least when he was a man, when he was Cloud Strife, Savior Of The Bloody World Twice, people had said his hair was cool. They'd tried to emulate his style – and Reeve swore that more people were breathing hairspray than oxygen because of Cloud Strife.

Now though, his hair just looked stupid. Everything about him looked stupid, and he hated the fact that this was how he'd looked all those years ago, before he'd become the most feared warrior in all the world.

At least when he was famous for his fighting ability, no one would have dared called him stupid.

He pinched himself, hard, and his reflection winced with him.

_It's not a dream._

He just stared at himself in the mirror as he tried to understand what that meant for him. He wasn't an idiot, even though Barret called him one often enough. He knew that he was back in the cadet program of SOLDIER, which meant that Nibelheim hadn't happened yet.

_Which means that Zack and Aeris are still alive, and Sephiroth is sane._

He didn't know which part of that thought was making his heart thump louder in his very thin, very awkward, very un-filled-out chest.

His ear wasn't pierced either, was the irrational thought that leapt hysterically to the forefront of his mind.

Taking a deep breath, Cloud turned and headed back to his bunk. He needed to know what day it was, what date it was, and whether he could get out and look for some explanations.

And then he needed to know if Zack had befriended him yet.

At the thought of Zack, his chest tightened, just as it always did whenever the memory of the SOLDIER hit him. Cloud couldn't stop the wild excitement that coursed through him at the realization that Zack was here somewhere and _alive_.

He entered the bunks as soundlessly as possible, not that it would have made a difference. A stampeding Bahamut wouldn't have woken the slumbering cadets.

He looked around for some sort of calendar, and then he noticed the cheap plastic clock on the wall, Shinra-issued to the cadets so that they could countdown to their exams and the moment of their failure.

_Quit being so damned negative._

Judging by the date, and assuming the obnoxious time-piece was even accurate, he had just over eight months to Nibelheim, and roughly four months to the SOLDIER Entrance Exams.

The word "SUN" stared back at him, and he realized elatedly that it was a Sunday. Which meant he was free to do as he pleased, as long as he was back before curfew. He debated going to look for Zack, but then realized that he couldn't remember exactly when Zack had befriended him, and if they weren't friends yet it would be really awkward approaching the SOLDIER.

_Aeris then._

His mind made up, he dressed quickly and left the barracks.

-----

It was almost surreal, being back here. Cloud was more accustomed to seeing rubble and debris where the Shinra buildings had once stood, instead of this tangible display of their power. Around him rose various buildings of different heights, some were training areas, some were classrooms and dining halls, some were bunks, and some he had never figured out what they were used for.

Making his way quickly to the gates, he kept his head low as he passed the sleepy guard who simply blinked at him before turning away. It was too early on a Sunday for any cadet to be up and about, but the guard didn't care. He just wanted his shift to end so he could crawl into a nice, warm bed for the rest of the day.

Cloud wasn't surprised to feel elated at the fact that he wasn't being treated with the annoying reverence everyone had come to treat him with. If it wasn't adoration and worship, it was Tifa and the others treading on egg-shells around him.

He walked briskly to the train station, and bought his return ticket from a very surprised looking attendant. It was slightly past 7AM and the only reason the trains ran this early was because they were automated and Shinra couldn't be bothered to set a timer – so the trains ran practically 24/7.

_Thought those greedy Scrooges would at least try to save some money on the running and maintenance costs._

Cloud's mouth turned down in derision as it always did when he thought of the porky president. He accepted his change from the attendant, 20Gil for his 100Gil piece. It cost very little to go from above the plate to the slums. But it cost plenty to come above the plate, and that was if the attendants below even allowed you to buy a ticket. Shinra was very particular about who could come near their perfect pristine buildings.

The train screeched to a halt steps away from Cloud, and he entered the empty carriage, glad for the solitude. With a loud squeal and a resounding clang, the doors shut and the train kicked back for a second before starting off. Cloud stumbled, and cursed his utter lack of co-ordination. He'd honed his body into a precise killing machine, and now he couldn't keep his balance on a damned _train_.

He sat gingerly on one of the thin plastic seats, and stared out the grimy window as the world flew past. He felt slightly numb, like he didn't know how exactly he should be feeling. He supposed he should be glad that someone somewhere had heard his prayers and granted his wish. But at the same time, and this thought made his shoulders curl in and his head sink down with the weight of it all, what if he failed again? Would he then have to relive every horrible moment and be powerless to stop it again? Would he have to watch Zack's body practically vibrate as it was riddled with bullets, would he have to feel the heat of the flames as Nibelheim burned, would he have to stare as the Masamune sliced clean through Aeris like a hot knife through butter?

Would he have to look into the eyes of the greatest man he'd ever known, and see only madness?

Shaking his head, he resolved not to think about it. At least not until Aeris shed some light on this turn of events. Cloud was nothing if not a pragmatist. He knew he hadn't always been one though – knew that in his younger days he'd been an emo little drama queen with a chip on his shoulder. But too many things had happened, and he had realized the value of shutting away emotions while sorting things through logically, rationally, coolly.

The train screeched to a halt again, huffing as it slammed its doors open for Cloud. He exited, making for Sector 5 and praying that Aeris would be there. He ignored the sights and sounds and acrid smell of the slums, but he couldn't help super-imposing what he was seeing with what he remembered of Midgar after Meteor.

_Sunlight._

This Midgar, this life under the plate, was one of the reasons why he sometimes thought that Meteor had been a good thing. At least it had taken away the plate and therefore the very symbol and proof of the oppression of the 'lower class'. From then on things had blossomed, helped along by WRO and Neo-Shinra. Tifa and Barret had helped a lot too, but Cloud had given up trying to chip in when all that happened was that people would stop whatever they were doing to congregate around him and gape.

Resolutely he ignored the drunks littering the streets, reeking of urine and bile and disease. He could smell fumes from the reactors too, and he really wanted to blow them up. But then he remembered what had happened the last time he'd done it, and he tried to forget Jesse's and Bigg's broken bodies.

Fortunately for him, all was relatively quiet. There were a few people stumbling around, prostitutes heading to wherever they called home after a night's work, junkies wandering in their dazed little worlds, the odd pickpocket looking for some loose change. Cloud side-stepped them all, and it was only years of training that prevented him from reacting to their proximity – that, and the knowledge that he was unarmed and weak in this time. He cursed himself, wishing he had thought to secure some sort of weapon before bailing out of the barracks, but he'd gotten used to always having several knives on him even when he slept, and First Tsurugi was never far from him.

_Have to get a blade._

First things first, though. He breathed a sigh of relief when the broken steeple of Aeris' church came into view. He was panting slightly from his near-jog through the slums, and he almost missed the effects of Hojo's tinkering. At least then he'd almost never gotten winded.

The doors were as he'd remembered – at once imposing and inviting. He paused a moment to catch his breath, and then he realized that he was panting more out of nerves than anything else. He cursed silently, hating that he hadn't thought things through in his rush to find Aeris, to reassure himself that at least in this world she was alive.

_What if she doesn't know?_

He didn't think he could bear it if she didn't recognize him, if she looked at him as though he was a freak or druggie on a trip. Then he remembered that Aeris could never look unkindly at anyone, and he didn't want to see pity in her eyes.

Squaring his shoulders, he pushed the doors open, tensing as they squeaked and squealed on their hinges as though protesting this early morning exertion. He couldn't care less though. The church was exactly as he'd remembered, down to that silent calm that pervaded the solemn beauty of it all. He took a deep breath then, breathing in the scent of flowers and stone and wood, closing his eyes to savor it, and then he opened them and stepped across the threshold.

The little field of flowers waved at him, the blooms lightly swaying, beckoning invitingly. He walked hesitantly towards them, as though afraid that they would melt away and become a lake rimmed with petals if he got too close.

They didn't, and he stood there and just _looked_ at them. He'd spent a lot of time in the church before Kadaj had rocked up and blown a hole in the ground, and he could have sworn the flowers here were somehow more colorful, more _alive_ than they had been when he'd lain on his threadbare bed-roll clutching his left arm and knowing that it was his punishment for not being good enough.

"Hello."

A soft voice that tinkled like bells in morning dew. He didn't dare turn, didn't dare look, as though doing so would mean that the vision of her would disappear as it always did. He clenched his fists, tried to calm himself, took a shaky breath, as he listened to her footsteps moving closer. He could smell her, that scent of flowers and earth and wind in an old church that was so distinctly Aeris that it overpowered him temporarily, and Cloud had to close his eyes at the enormity of it all.

A light hand on his left bicep, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and holding it there, keeping it in place. He'd never been whole after losing her, and if this wasn't real he'd be a much more broken man.

_It's cruel to kick fallen puppies._

But her hand beneath his felt as solid and real and as dainty as ever, and he could feel her lightly calloused fingertips against his non-existent bicep. It strengthened him, this proof of her being there, and he turned.

He'd forgotten how incredibly beautiful she was.

Her green eyes twinkled at him, kind and all-knowing and gentle and tender and loving. Her brown hair was in her usual braid, falling down her back, but wavy tendrils had escaped and they framed her delicate face like a lover's caress. Her lips were curled in a smile that was at once warm and amused and so filled with affection that he felt his own lips mimicking her.

"Hello," he said, voice catching as his throat closed up. He couldn't say anything more, and just stared at her, wanting so much to hug her to him and beg for forgiveness, yet somehow feeling unworthy of touching her any more than he already was. He'd always felt like he was tainting her somehow, even in his memories – because he was useless and imperfect, and she was an angel.

She smiled at him, a knowing smile that seemed to tell him that she knew exactly what he was thinking. Then again, she'd always seemed to know the self-depreciating thoughts that clamored in his Swiss-cheese brain.

"It's good to see you, Cloud." And then her smile widened, but it was tinged with sorrow.

Cloud's smile fled his face instantly and he frowned: he hated seeing Aeris upset. Hated seeing any one of his friends upset.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Cloud." And then his brow furrowed in confusion. What was she sorry about? She was here, she was real, she was _alive_, and he could talk to her and hold her and touch her. It was almost enough to make him forget that he'd failed to save her.

"Why are you apologizing?" his hold on her hand tightened, and he made himself relax it so as not to hurt her.

"Because I did what I did without asking you how you'd feel about it." Aeris' eyes were troubled as she looked up at him, and Cloud could only stare at her.

"…I'm just glad to be here with you," he answered at last. "And thank you for giving me this."

At that, Aeris reached out with her other hand and pulled Cloud to her, holding him against her and stroking the back of his head. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her, breathing in her scent, and he couldn't bear the thought of waking up and having this be just another trick of his mind.

At length Aeris pulled away and led him to one of the pews. They sat, and Cloud held her hand in both of his, not wanting to relinquish contact.

"You have questions?" she cocked her head to the side, tilted it curiously in that graceful way of hers.

He nodded, and his throat worked as he tried to speak. It took him several tries, but at length Cloud was able to give voice to the burning question in his mind.

"Why?"

She smiled again, and looked away briefly before looking him in the eye. "Because you were sad, Cloud. Because you couldn't seem to forgive yourself no matter what, and because you couldn't seem to understand that it was never your fault to begin with."

Cloud looked away then, at the flowers grinning perkily up at him. His headache from before was back with a vengeance: funny how he'd pushed it away thus far. He didn't want to think about what he couldn't forgive himself for. It was bad enough he had to live with the proof of his failures everyday.

"Oh Cloud," Aeris breathed, reaching out to stroke his cheek lightly. He turned back to face her. "Things will be different this time, you'll see." And she seemed to be trying to will him to agree with her. "You have a chance now to have the life you want."

And Cloud pondered her words even as he leaned his cheek into her caress. To have what he wanted… he couldn't stop his mind from straying to an image of long silver hair and an aristocratic profile. He pushed the thought out of his head brutally.

_Not a chance._

And somehow that hurt, knowing that here HE was alive, but would still never return the feelings that had torn Cloud to shreds every time he'd had to kill him.

Aeris sighed as she looked at him. She could almost see the dark thoughts consuming his mind, the pessimism born of a lifetime of sacrifices and shattered dreams. If she hadn't been convinced before, now she was absolutely positive that it had been the right thing to do - sending Cloud back to where he had a chance at happiness.

Cloud just looked at her and tried to give her a half-smile.

_Always trying to make everyone happy_.

She wanted him to be happy, wanted him to seize this chance with both hands and pursue it with the dogged determination that had made him chase Sephiroth to the ends of the world. But she knew he'd need plenty of nudges along the way – he seemed to believe that he wasn't worthy of happiness. But she couldn't blame him. Every time he'd had a chance at some sort of joy it'd been snatched cruelly away from him.

_Not this time_.

Aeris was determined that this time would be different. This time, Cloud would have his heart's desire. He'd done enough for the world that he deserved something better than cold memories.

She hesitated though, and Cloud sensed it, as he always did.

"What is it?" the urgency of his voice didn't suit this young face, nor did it escape her that his voice had deepened, his words more clipped. This was the voice of the leader of AVALANCHE, at once caring, compassionate, business-like, and authoritative.

She couldn't look him in the eye. "What I did…when I sent you back, I changed the order of things." She took a deep breath, looking everywhere but at the blond boy-man next to her. "There will be challenges you'll have to overcome – because you're the one who'll save the world." She chanced a glance at him then, and instantly wished she hadn't.

Cloud's face had closed-off, his body had tensed. His eyes were frigid, and the line of his jaw was so grim and firm that it looked completely incongruous with his fifteen-year old appearance.

He was looking straight at her and wishing he didn't have to play the damned hero again. He was sick of it. Sure, he'd wanted everyone to know he was strong, that was partly why he'd left Nibelheim for cadet training. But when he'd gotten the strength he'd wished for, no one had told him that the price he'd have to pay would be more than he could ever recover from.

"I'm so sorry, Cloud." She touched his cheek, noting how he didn't react at all to her. Some of her pain must have shown in her eyes, though, because he instantly forced himself to relax. His eyes were still cold, but not as freezingly hard as before.

Cloud knew he couldn't blame Aeris, knew there was no point getting angry. A part of him had been expecting this. But still he'd been hoping that he wouldn't have to play the Savior again, that he wouldn't have to be the super-strong, super-fast, super-tough warrior whom everyone turned to whenever things got rough.

He just wanted to be Cloud.

Instantly he felt bad – here he was being selfish, whining about the unfairness of it all when the Planet was suffering, Vincent was locked in a coffin, and Red XIII was probably being dissected by Hojo right now.

He sighed, and when Aeris looked at him, he gave her a small smile. It wasn't much, but at least he wanted her to know that he understood, and that he'd do it, and this time he'd keep her safe.

It was the least he could do.

She smiled at him, and suddenly he didn't care if he had to save the world a thousand times. It was worth it to have her back in his life – she'd always been the joyful part of his soul, the happy little song in his heart, the light in his mind.

Cloud didn't want to think about what he would do or how he would feel if a certain green-eyed SOLDIER smiled at him.

_Probably start babbling like a girl. _

-----

"Hey, Cloud. Where've you been?"

Cloud looked up in surprise, and stared straight into the light brown eyes of Brian Tranton. He barely remembered him from his cadet days, but what he could remember was that Brian was one of the few who'd never poked fun at Cloud for being weak and puny. Of course, it might have had something to do with the fact that Brian himself wasn't very strong or smart. He was the second son of a middle class family out of Kalm, and seemed to be the kind of average, normal person that Cloud had often wished he could be.

He must've stared at Brian for too long, because Tranton simply rolled his eyes and smiled. "You're out of it, _again_." Then Brian simply turned back to his book.

Dumbly, Cloud made for his bed and collapsed onto it. He looked around at the rest of his bunk-mates, and none of them seemed to have even noticed him.

_Runt of the litter._

He'd forgotten much of his days as a cadet – had WANTED to forget and he had. But he knew he'd been alternately picked on or ignored. He supposed his immaturity hadn't helped, or the fact that he'd been too weak to do much.

This time would be different though.

With that in mind, he leaned back and started to plan.

The time with Aeris had been good. They'd had lunch together, and he'd walked her home before receiving a peck on the cheek. He felt happier, calmer, lighter. And now he was back in the barracks, trying not to think about the consequences of failing, and trying to figure out how to get stronger, faster.

And then he needed to work out how to befriend Zack and get close enough to Sephiroth to stop Nibelheim.

"Lights out!" The bellow seemed to galvanize the cadets into action, as everyone scrambled to put away drinks and cards and books before the room was plunged into darkness. Cloud himself simply toed off his boots and lay back down, the rollercoaster ride his emotions had taken all day making him fall asleep as soon as his head hit the cheap pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Almost Karma**

**By BluWhispers**

**Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.

**Warnings:** Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

**A/N (1):** My bag was stolen from outside the exam hall. The USB drives containing all my stories – drafts, plots, notes, etc – are gone. My stories are gonna be coming slower now since I lost the drafts of all my chapters.

**A/N (2):** Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers! Hopefully this chapter clears up some of the past-future quandary.

Vincent wheeled Fenrir into the shed Cloud had built expressly for it. His keen eyes didn't miss how ridiculously well-made it was – all smooth, shiny steel: reinforced and waterproofed and bulletproofed and _climate-controlled_. Fenrir even had its own throw rug and cushioned stands.

_Good grief_.

He slid the bolt back into its place along the door, noting how it would take at least three non-genetically-enhanced men to move it. That is, if said non-genetically-enhanced men could even handle Fenrir. The Beast on Wheels was notorious for giving anyone but Cloud a hard time.

Even Mecha-thumb Cid had had to concede defeat.

As he turned to go, he spotted the little hut that seemed to be a part of the rock-wall behind it. Vincent wasn't a fool – he knew Cloud had designed it specifically to blend in with the environment. And he knew that this was definitely where Cloud lived – had caught enough glimpses of his friend coming to this area and disappearing into thin air to figure it out.

He hesitated, not wanting to pry even though the blond man was long gone. Cloud was an insanely private man, guarding his thoughts and emotions like a jealous lover. And Vincent understood that – what it was like to have only memories to call your own. Not that Cloud was even sure which of his memories were his and his alone.

_You can take the man out of the Turks, but you'll never take the Turk out of the man._

His mind made up, he picked the lock and walked in.

And stopped, and _stared_.

It was _tiny_.

There was barely enough space for what little the place did have – and Vincent had nearly walked right into the rock-face that served as the back of Cloud's home.

_Not his home. His prison_.

Because that was exactly what it looked like. There was no window, no electricity, no pictures, not even a bed. Just that ugly green bedroll that Vincent had seen one too many times, and a small chest where he assumed Cloud kept the Materia he stole from Yuffie. There was no light or oil-lamp; not that Cloud needed it – Mako and finely honed senses would have helped him navigate a bigger, less Spartan place than this.

There wasn't even a fireplace or any manner of cooking appliance – and Vincent wondered if Cloud ate anything that wasn't packed by Tifa or packaged by WRO. He turned to leave, and just as he was locking the door behind him he noticed the little well hidden in the shadow of the hut. Then he realized why the whole set-up was so depressing.

It was all far too military to be comfortable.

Cloud couldn't allow himself to relax or grow complacent – couldn't allow himself to get used to warm food and soft, fluffy beds. Because one day he might wake up and the world would need him to ride to the rescue like a bloody knight in shining armor again and he'd do it because it was all he knew how to do.

Then after he'd dispatched yet another threat to humanity, he'd come back to this tiny cell and sit in the dark and think. There wasn't even a book or radio in the place to distract him.

_Someone needs a hobby_.

Vincent wondered if he could have made a difference, if he could've somehow helped Cloud with his burden. They were similar enough that Vincent had come to regard Cloud as more than a friend, almost a soul-mate, because they both knew what it was like to carry a beast within. Maybe if he hadn't been so afraid of broaching a sore topic and offending a friend; maybe if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own damn problems and come over to spend some time with Cloud and talk…

_Don't kid yourself, Valentine_.

All the pep-talks and friends in the world wouldn't have helped. Cloud hadn't just lost his dreams; he'd had to destroy them himself to save the rest of the world. But somehow Vincent knew that if it came to it, Cloud would willingly sacrifice everything if only to protect everyone else.

_Quit being such a damned martyr and get a life._

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Vincent wondered how Cloud would react to that. Probably give him that sad little smile of his and avoid him for the rest of his life.

-----

Cloud couldn't decide if he wanted to wake up. On the one hand, if the whole second-chance thing turned out to be just a very vivid dream, then at least he'd wake up in familiar surroundings. On the other hand, if he really WAS fifteen again, there was a chance here for him to take what he wanted and live the dream.

That was just it: he didn't know if he wanted to live a dream, or dream of living. One was familiar and comfortable; the other was so filled with hope and promise that it was at once exhilarating and terrifying.

As he was procrastinating and attempting to postpone the inevitable, his body decided to go ahead without him and take the plunge. He could hear snoring, could smell the sweat.

_Yippee-ka-yay._

He opened his eyes.

It was dark, very dark. Cloud couldn't even see the clock on the wall, and he almost wished he had Hojo's tinkering to back him. But he didn't, so he looked around the room instead, eyes landing on a faint glow two bunks away.

_Glow-in-the-dark alarm clock._

He rolled to his feet, wincing as the bed creaked a little. No one stirred though, and he made his way stealthily over to the sleeping cadet with the very handy time-piece.

_Four-fucking-thirty._

He'd gotten so used to sleeping only four hours a day, six at the very most, that it appeared his mental awareness had carried over to this useless teenage body. He supposed that was a good thing – he couldn't honestly be expected to save the world with the mentality of a fifteen year old hillbilly.

Sighing, he turned and headed for the bathrooms. He knew better than to try to go back to sleep – if he succeeded, it would mess up his sleeping habits and he refused to be anything less than the man he was. Washing his face and brushing his teeth were done on auto-pilot as he pondered the situation. It was Monday, and from what he could remember of cadet training they had PT every morning for two hours, before a whole host of classes.

PT started at seven-thirty though, after breakfast. Which meant that Cloud had about two hours before the wake-up call sounded at six-thirty.

He spat into the sink, rinsed his mouth, and couldn't help glancing in the mirror. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, _hoping_ for – maybe for some of the bulk and height he'd finally gained, but he knew that if his eyes started glowing he'd be in big trouble. Cadets absolutely did NOT have Mako-glows, and Cloud vaguely remembered that their Mako-testing would take place only towards the end of the cadet program. He wasn't looking forward to it, but at the same time, he knew he would welcome the effects of Mako. It helped to be genetically-enhanced when you had to save the world.

His face was as stupidly childish as ever. If Cloud had been a different man, he'd have made a face or smashed the mirror. But he'd learned to control himself, to keep a chokingly tight rein on his emotions, so he just turned to leave before an idea hit him.

_Chin-ups._

The bathroom stalls were metal (God only knew why), and they looked pretty stable. Cloud could use them to his advantage – he knew he needed to work on his abysmal fitness and strength, it was one of the reasons why he'd failed the SOLDIER exams before.

He walked over slowly, stretching his arms lightly on the way. When he came to a stop directly under one of the beams that held the doors to the stalls, he couldn't help scowling when he realized how very high up it was.

_Shorty._

He leapt up, catching hold of the metal shaft with some of his old grace. But already his arms were burning with the effort of trying to remain holding on.

_Pathetic._

Gritting his teeth, he shifted his hands into position, took a deep breath, and pulled.

It _burned_. And he hadn't even gotten his chin near the beam yet. This was ridiculous. As an adult, he'd been able to do hundreds of one-handed chin-ups easily, and now he couldn't even do a normal chin-up without his arms whining like one of those new-fangled emo-rock groups.

_Tough luck._

Heedless of his body's cries, he pulled harder until his chin touched the beam, then very slowly he lowered himself while exhaling, not wanting to get into the habit of a jarring release. The biggest problem with cadets was that they liked taking the easy way out, liked to just drop back quickly from a chin-up position because they wanted to give their muscles some relief. It was only in SOLDIER that they would realize that the best way to build up strength and therefore reduce the pain was to move slowly and breathe correctly – that way the proper muscles would be used, and it lessened the probability of injury.

Cloud kept up his exercise, but he was sweating profusely by the second successful chin-up. He persevered though, liking how when his body was shaking so hard from the effort his mind couldn't really think about the consequences of failure.

He managed twelve before his strength gave out, and he fell to the floor in an ungraceful, sweaty heap. He forced himself to stand shakily, and he brushed sticky hair away from his face with a hand that quivered like Yuffie's bottom lip whenever she tried to emotionally blackmail him. He never thought he'd miss her brattiness, but he was surprised to find that he'd willingly put up with a thousand of her shrieks right now if only to have a familiar face at his side.

_Absence makes the heart grow fonder_.

If that was true then a certain silver-haired man should be very fond of Cloud right now.

Shaking his head, he stretched his arms again, before looking back up at the smug metal beam. He leapt up, catching it with sweaty palms, and quickly brought his knees up and tucked his legs over and around it. It was time for crunches, and these were particularly effective. Cloud would hang himself upside down and use only his abdominal muscles to pull his chin to his knees while his lower back muscles kept his body firm. He knew that he needed to strengthen his core muscles, knew that when it came to throwing punches or swinging a massive broadsword around the majority of his strength would come from his abs and lower back – Tifa had confirmed that the techniques involved in making blows more powerful required very strong internal muscles and proper breathing habits.

He inhaled, then clenched his stomach and pulled himself up on the exhale. And very nearly fell off the beam as his entire body jerked and practically _fizzled_ with the effort.

_Friggin' ridiculous!_

Had Hojo really made THAT much of an impact? Did Cloud really owe so much to the mad scientist with the stereotypical Dr Frankenstein look?

_No way in hell._

This time, he would do it HIS way. There was absolutely no chance of him allowing Hojo to experiment on him again, no way he would give someone the opportunity to take him apart and prod him and humiliate him and manipulate him. Cloud knew that he was on the small side, knew that he was slightly effeminate (there was a reason why he'd managed to fool Corneo after all), but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Failure was not an option. It wasn't everyday that anyone got the chance to go back to the past armed with years of experience and hindsight, and Cloud was going to make the best of it.

_Good luck with that._

Now if only his traitorous mind would just shut up, everything would be just peachy.

Grunting and panting with the effort, he managed twenty such crunches, practically _flopping_ towards the end, and then changed his position on the beam and dropped to the ground. He would have back-flipped off the bar but he'd probably have rubbed noses with the floor that way – his body was still far too underdeveloped for that sort of exertion. Mako had really made a difference, and not just physically. It was a helluva confidence booster; and confidence, Cloud knew, was the key to successfully pulling off any sort of stunt.

He wondered how he'd succeeded in saving the world twice, when he'd never really had any confidence in his abilities.

_Didn't know saving lives was a goddamned stunt_.

He didn't have very long to work out until the others woke, and he didn't have much time until the exams or Nibelheim. He needed to make the most of every second, and he really didn't need to keep thinking about how weak he was or about how much he wanted to see a certain Angel of Death.

_Goddammit._

He knew just the thing to clear his head, and he headed out of the barracks, accidentally catching a glimpse of himself in the mirrors as he left the bathroom. His hair was limp and sticking to his head like an upturned bowl of banana mush, and his face was ruddier than Red XIII's backside.

_Lovely_.

He walked quickly towards the track, and once there he started stretching. His flexibility was almost laughable here, and he knew he'd need to work on it. Speed and leonine reflexes could only do so much, and more than once it had been only Cloud's almost stripper-like suppleness that had enabled him to dodge a fatal blow.

_Well, if SOLDIER doesn't work out…_

Stretching done, he took off at a jog, making sure to keep his breathing deep and even. He'd found that focusing on simple things like inhaling and exhaling helped keep the inevitable muscle burn at bay, and he needed to build up his endurance and stamina. There was no point in being super-strong and super-fast if he dropped boneless to the ground within five minutes of a fight.

He didn't know what time it was, or how long he had, but he was determined to keep at his almost-run until the wake-up call sounded. He didn't want to think about what he was going to say if the other cadets asked why he was already up and sweaty - if they even noticed him at all. He supposed they might even chalk it up to masturbation, being male and teenaged. But somehow he didn't want them to think that he was the kind of guy who wanked, let alone the kind of moron who woke up earlier than everyone else just to shag himself silly.

He managed two rounds around the field before the stitch in his side became a serious hindrance, but he refused to double over or slouch. Posture was important, and if he could just break the pain barrier he'd be in better shape for the exams. So Cloud kept himself upright, his obliques and core muscles practically trembling with the effort required to maintain a proper carriage after so much exertion.

He kept going, just focusing on his breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart as it thumped along in time with his booted feet on the worn track. Running always gave him a certain peace of mind and clarity of thought – it always helped him feel like he was somehow free of doubt, free of care or worry or concern. The light morning breeze carried a scent of metal and Mako, but for once Cloud welcomed this reminder of Shinra's presence. It helped remind him of how much he stood to lose – and not just his life or the lives of his friends or the rest of the world; but more importantly his self-respect and his peace of mind. While Cloud had never really come to terms with himself, he'd at least managed to achieve a certain ease with his body and his environment that, although far from being contentment or happiness, had at least given him a sort of calmness of spirit. It might have just been familiarity, after years of going through almost the same motions, but Cloud liked to think that he had actually managed to adjust to being who he was – broken and almost-insane and all.

This time though, he could erase his mistakes as though they'd never happened. Aeris and he would be the only ones to know that things could have happened differently, _had_ actually happened differently. And Cloud was fine with that – it was his burden to bear. If no one else knew how much he'd suffered, it was alright with him, because then they wouldn't have to know about how blood-thirsty Sephiroth would become, and how close the world would actually come to being completely obliterated when Cloud almost hadn't been strong enough.

When he'd been younger, an actual fifteen year old, he'd longed for glory and gold, for fame and name. And then he'd gotten it and wished he'd never left Nibelheim for cadet training. He wondered what would have happened if he'd never come to Midgar, never gotten to know Zack, never become Hojo's science homework. Would someone else have stepped up to the plate and stopped the end of the world? Or would Jenova have won? Maybe some other nameless infantryman would have become the hero – it was probably just fate that had resulted in Cloud being picked to go along with Sephiroth and Zack to Nibelheim anyway. Shinra wouldn't actually have been thoughtful enough to send someone on a mission back to their hometown on purpose.

He'd hit the nail on the head. Cloud had never felt worthy of the mantle that had been shoved upon him, had always wondered why he'd been practically hand-picked by Destiny to become a bloody Hero. It was all a bit too much to be just a coincidence – first the Nibelheim mission, then meeting Tifa in AVALANCHE, then falling into the church and opening his eyes to Aeris. Had he really been intended for this role all along? Aeris seemed to think so – she'd said that he would be the one to save the world. But if that was true, then why hadn't he been born stronger, better, smarter? Why had he been brought into the world as Cloud Strife, illegitimate weakling in a backwater mountain town? He'd practically had a bull's-eye painted on himself – he was a prime target for bullies and a total trouble magnet. If he'd really been born to save the world, shouldn't he have been at least blessed with _some _form of strength or unique ability? The only thing special about him was how absurdly pathetic he was.

_Fall seven times, stand up eight_.

Yuffie had mentioned it before – an old proverb in Wutaian literature.

So Cloud had been born useless and pathetic just so he could get beaten and broken and crushed. The Planet wanted to see if he could pick himself up again? What would have happened if he hadn't found the strength to do so? Was the Planet really willing to take such a gamble? This wasn't some stupid video game. What was the bloody _point_? If he was destined to be Mr Save-the-World, why not just _give_ him strength and speed and smarts from the get-go? Why make him suffer and bleed every step of the way?

Why make sadness the price to pay?

_Ancients._

His head was aching from the philosophical marathon, so he decided to stop thinking about it. If there was one thing he liked about who he'd become, it was that he could, most of the time, control his thoughts and emotions so well that he could walk through fire and feel as though he was in a bed of water. Pain and heat and cold were just states of mind to him – he had that strong a command over his body and psyche.

_At last, something I'm good at._

He'd lost count of how many rounds he'd made, but his shirt was stuck to his body, and he was a waterfall of sweat. He probably stank too – he lifted up his right arm to take a sniff and nearly recoiled at the stench.

_Eau de cadet._

Suddenly the silence of the morning was broken by a cheesy trumpet call that reminded Cloud of the cheap Westerns Cid liked to watch. Shinra Company was the richest, most formidable empire in the world, and they couldn't even record a better alarm – had probably just stolen it off one of Cid's favorite gun-slinging shows.

_Goddamned penny-pinchers._

He slowed to a stop, making sure to walk evenly for awhile before he moved to stretch again. It wouldn't do to get a cramp – the instructors would show no mercy, and the cadets would just beat him to the ground for being such an embarrassment.

When he'd finally managed to get his breathing under control, he headed to the nearby faucet to wash some of the sweat off. Then he walked back to the now-empty bunks to change his shirt and towel off before going to the mess hall. Some of the others were already there, sleepily trying to eat their coffee, but the others were, for the most part, still in the bathroom trying to wake up.

Nothing woke Cloud up like the smell of Shinra garbage. And that was exactly what was sitting on his plate. The chalkboard claimed it was oatmeal and eggs – it looked more like the fur balls Red XIII sometimes hacked up.

Cloud took a seat at the far end of the cafeteria, keeping his back against the wall. He was pretty sure this had been his token place in the past, and he hoped he was right so that no one would accuse him of being in their seat and draw attention to him. He swallowed his gag reflex, and forced himself to take a nice, big spoonful of the Unidentified Food-ish Object.

He supposed he should be grateful that he'd never allowed himself to get used to proper home-made meals. Sometimes he'd had to hunt for his own fare, when provisions ran out. And then he'd have to make a fire and cook it if he didn't want to eat raw meat like an animal. Not that he didn't feel like an animal sometimes.

_Stop it. Just stop it._

He made it through half the plate before throwing in the towel, and gulped down his tasteless coffee before rising to dump his tray and grab his water bottle for class. The others in his bunk were already in the hall, some of them, like Cloud, had already finished and were just taking the time before classes to daydream about how they would be Big, Bad SOLDIERS.

Cloud already knew which of them would make it and which wouldn't.

He was almost out the door when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye that made him turn slightly. A bright red head was attempting to drown itself in coffee.

_Reno?_

Cloud couldn't remember ever seeing Reno before the AVALANCHE gig with the reactors, but he was pretty sure that if Reno had somehow been sent back into the past with him then Aeris would have mentioned it. Which meant that Reno had been a cadet with Cloud, and Reno had known the details of Cloud's sordid past.

_Why didn't he say anything?_

Why had Reno allowed Cloud to believe that he was an ex-SOLDIER? Why hadn't Reno mentioned ever being in the same training group as Cloud, when everyone knew that Cloud was desperately trying to piece together the memories of his life before AVALANCHE?

_Bastard._

If Cloud ever woke up back in the future, he'd make sure to give the Turk a piece of his mind, and a nice big piece of First Tsurugi.

-----

Barret remembered the first time he'd hugged Cloud. It had been a spur of the moment thing - he hadn't been thinking; had been so overjoyed and ecstatic and so ridiculously happy that he'd just grabbed the person nearest to him and _crushed_.

Cloud had tensed and gone stiff as a board, but he hadn't lashed out. When Barret finally pulled back grinning, the pale, pinched look on Cloud's face instantly flattened his buoyant mood like a WEAPON landing on a chocobo.

Thinking he'd offended his friend, Barret had been about to apologize in his own gruff way when Cloud had offered him a sad half-smile. And then Barret realized that it wasn't that Cloud didn't like being hugged, it was just that it wasn't _Barret_ he wanted hugging him.

Barret hadn't hugged Cloud again. He didn't need to see that heartbroken expression on the blond's face every time Cloud wished it was someone else's arms around him.

Now Cloud was gone to make sure Nibelheim never burned. When Tifa and Vincent had first told them about the time-traveling thing, Barret had wondered what they'd been smoking. Then he'd wondered what it meant for all of them. Reeve had puzzled about quantum physics and Relatives and Butterflies and Somebody's Cat until he realized they weren't listening.

The President of WRO had tried to explain, saying that their reality would change as Cloud changed the past, but that they wouldn't know any better because their memories and their lives and their surroundings would reflect the effects of Cloud's actions accordingly. Barret had walked off and punched a hole in a wall – with his gun-arm, of course. He wasn't as freaky strong as Cloud.

He wondered what it'd mean for him – how different things would be. Barret was happy with his life, comfortable now with the way things were. He'd fought hard for it – from actual gun-fights and guerilla tactics to intimidation techniques in the boardroom and on the oil-fields. Barret Wallace was a self-made man, even though he realized that he wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for Cloud's help. But it was _his_ blood and _his_ sweat and _his_ tears that had taken the opportunity Cloud had presented him with and turned it into the enormous trust fund for Marlene and Denzel. Barret could give them everything and anything they wanted now – a far cry from a terrorist in a secret hideout bargaining with a mercenary about school fees and clandestine operations.

Barret knew that Cloud would ensure he was taken care of though – Cloud always did watch out for everyone else; would cut off his own arm if it meant making a friend happy.

But what would it be like to never have been friends with Cloud Strife, to never have fought by his side to free the world from fear?

He knew Cloud had it rough, rougher than the rest of them. And he suspected he knew why. So if Cloud now had a chance at happiness, Barret wasn't going to begrudge him that. Not after everything Cloud had done for him, not after everything Cloud had sacrificed for him. True, he didn't really like the object of Cloud's affections; but Cloud was his friend and friends supported each other. Or at the very least they didn't pull a Shinra on the people they owed their lives to. Barret might have been a rough and coarse man – AVALANCHE had had to be rough – but he was a softy at heart and everyone knew it. Barret would fight to get to where he was again if it meant that Cloud could have a shot at happiness.

Yuffie called him a teddy bear, and Barret had been secretly pleased.

He was getting old.

So Barret would cheer Cloud on – though if Reeve was right, he wouldn't know why he was cheering anyway. But one thing Barret did know – Cloud would succeed. Cloud would defeat Shinra and Jenova and DeepGround and anyone else that needed defeating, because he was Cloud Strife.

And Barret would be there with him somehow – he knew that.

He wondered what things would be like, and then he decided not to think about it because there was really nothing he could do except take each day as it came.

_Maybe we can hug tomorrow._

-----

"PICK it UP, ladies! You think this is a game? Is THIS how you sorry asses are gonna run when the enemy's bearing down on your worthless hides? PICK it UP!"

Gunnery Sergeant Payne was exactly that – a pain. Every morning he had the cadets for PT, and every morning he would scream the same lines at them until his face, already perpetually red from his alcoholism, would become mottled and purple. His blustering had worked before, when the cadets had been new, but by now they'd all become quite accomplished at tuning him out.

Cloud simply reminded himself that the Gunny would eventually die of cirrhosis. He supposed he was being rather spiteful, but Gunnery Sergeant Payne had ridden him harder than anyone else – although it had probably been because Cloud was the weakest of the bunch, but that wasn't the point. Did the man have to be so stereotypically army?

The cadets were halfway through their rounds around the field, and already most of them were doubled over from the exertion – or from appendicitis. Cloud himself really wanted to just flop onto the ground – his private training earlier in the morning combined with the Gunny's yowling making passing out sound very tempting. But he knew that he needed to not only survive this, but excel. So he gritted his teeth and called upon every single ounce of willpower and self-respect in his exhausted, shaking body, and increased his pace. He could tell some of his group were wondering what was wrong with him – Cloud was usually the last of the bunch, and he'd rarely managed to make it this far at this speed without collapsing at least once. But Cloud ignored them and just focused on zoning out.

Around and around they went, until at last the Gunny gave a shrill whistle, and they stopped – most of the cadets throwing themselves to the ground in an attempt to rest a bit before the next set of drills.

Cloud kept walking on the spot. He knew he looked like crap now – his face was most definitely redder than Reno's sweat-drenched mane, his hair was sticky and _everywhere_, and his shirt had practically melded itself to his body. Not to mention that the dust that the cadets had kicked up from the tracks and the pollution coming into the training grounds from the rest of Midgar was most probably streaked all over his face – add that to the rest of his stinking, soaking, shaking body and he was _stylin'_.

The whistle sounded again, and there was a collective groan as the cadets pulled themselves towards the cones that had been set up by their sadistic instructor. It was time for suicide drills.

_Yippee-ka-yay._

Honestly, Cloud didn't know how he'd managed to get through PT when he was feeling more exhausted than he'd ever had in his life. Not even taking on the Triplets and Sephiroth had worn him out this much. He supposed he should be proud of himself, but right now he just wanted to wake up on his old bedroll in his little hut. At least in that world, he'd been The Man.

The cadets moved as a collective slug, and they trudged along the hallways to their next class, not bothering to clean themselves off. It was hand-to-hand time. For some of them, it meant that they could take out all their hormone-induced aggression on others in the name of SOLDIER; but for the rest of them it was just another reason why Mondays sucked. Cloud remembered being beaten to a pulp more times than he could count in this class, and he thought that he could probably remember every crack and tear and bump on the blue mat that covered most of the hall. Once upon a time, the ugly blue thing had probably been meant to cushion the impact of falls, but now it just gave cause for uneven footing and more than one twisted ankle.

They were bellowed at by Staff Sergeant Jeffries, and they sorted themselves into some semblance of two lines, assuming their respective offensive or defensive positions. Then the katas began – mind-numbingly boring repetitions that were absolutely useless in a real fight. As if an opponent would actually use these cadet-level moves. Not only that, but the katas themselves were full of holes, so easily side-stepped that Cloud wanted to laugh. As it was, he concentrated on the steps, not wanting to get howled at by another sadistic instructor and risk drawing attention to himself. He was managing pretty well against his opponent for the day, a big burly boy from Costa del Sol who had bleached blond hair and a very dark tan and who was so stereotypically surfer-boy he even ended every sentence with the word "dude". His name was Matt, if Cloud remembered correctly, and he hung out with another del Sol kid: another tanned, tall boy who had dread-locks and who called himself a 'Rasta' or something like that. Fifteen year old Cloud had thought that they were kinda cool; this older Cloud thought they were kinda annoying.

He could tell Matt was surprised that he was managing to hold his own, especially so soon after PT. Usually Cloud would have been flat on the floor by now, but today Cloud refused to be anything less than the best. It was boring though, these senseless acts of martial garbage, and soon enough Cloud found himself zoning out and thinking about how First Tsurugi was doing.

He wondered if anyone would care enough to give Fenrir a rub-down before bed-time.

As it was, Cloud didn't notice the look Matt gave his Rasta-friend. If he had, he would've recognized the signal – it was Crush Strife Time.

Matt was supposed to guard with his left arm, but instead he shot his right fist out, straight at Cloud's nose. And Cloud _reacted_.

It was instinct that screamed through him, racing through his body with all the force and brutality of a train wreck. He shifted his feet, twisted, clenching his stomach muscles, using his left hand to grab Matt's fist, his right arm coming in between them and latching onto Matt's bicep as he _pulled_; then using his right shoulder Cloud flipped the surfer over and onto the mat, jerking his arm back at the last minute.

The resounding _snap_ brought Cloud out of his battle-haze, and he stared in horror at the other boy's protruding radial bone. Matt was on the ground, crying out in agony, and Cloud hastily released his arm and stepped back. He hadn't meant to do it, had just instinctively used a move he'd seen Tifa pull enough times to figure out for himself.

"WHAT the FUCK is going on here?!"

Staff Sergeant Jeffries was suddenly _right there_, in Cloud's face. He didn't even spare the howling Matt a glance.

_Oh sure, go for the natural blond_.

Cloud just looked back at him impassively. Did Jeffries _really_ think he could intimidate Cloud with that clichéd routine?

_Give me SOME credit._

"Strife! I asked you a question! What the FUCK is going on? Is there any part of the kata that says that you're supposed to throw your opponent to the ground? What kind of DUMB SHIT are you?!"

Cloud just looked at him. Matt was still wailing.

"It wasn't Cloud's fault, sir."

Cloud spun around and stared. Reno was standing next to him, and actually _defending _him.

Jeffries was advancing on the red-head now, but to Reno's credit he just stood his ground and attempted to school his face into one of deference. Cloud could see the Turk in him even now.

"Explain."

Reno didn't even glance at Cloud. "Matt deviated from the kata and aimed a punch at Cloud's face, sir."

Jeffries turned his beady eyes towards Cloud, and the blond tried to mask his shock. What was Reno up to? Why was he defending him? They hadn't been friends, or Cloud would've remembered it. Reno was a street-rat, the kind of person who only looked out for Number One and who didn't do something for nothing. Was Reno from the future, then? Was that why he was being, well, _supportive_ of Cloud? Or did he have something up his sleeve? Defending Cloud like this was going to get him into trouble with some of the other boys, because Matt was quite a popular guy, and Cloud most definitely _wasn't_.

"That true, Strife?" Jeffries really didn't seem to notice that Matt had passed out. None of the other boys were helping him though – they didn't want to incur the wrath of their instructor for the _dude_.

Cloud nodded once. "Yes, sir."

Jeffries attempted to stare him down, but Cloud just stared right back at him. He tried to put on a mask of deference, but he knew it was just plain indifference on his face when Jeffries sneered and looked madder.

"Drop down and give me 200."

Cloud debated grunting an "oo-rah" back at the Sergeant, and thought the better of it, dropping to the ground with nothing more than a "Sir, yes sir".

Jeffries turned back to the other boys and ordered two of them to drag Matt to the infirmary. Reno was still standing there, not looking at Cloud, but somehow the blond knew that Reno was watching him intently. He didn't react though, didn't even glance at the future Turk. He didn't know what to think. Why was Reno helping him out? What did he want? Was he from the future too?

Then Cloud just cursed himself. He hadn't wanted to draw any attention to himself, hadn't wanted anyone to notice anything different about him. And then he'd gone and pulled a Zangan-special on a boy twice his size.

The thought of the move he'd used reminded him of Tifa. He wondered how she was doing.

Was she calling him a selfish bastard now? Or maybe a useless coward?

He doubted it though. Tifa had always understood him. When he'd been younger, he'd loved her as one would love a dream, a lady-love for an errant knight. But later, after everything, he had loved her simply as the kind-hearted sister she had come to be. After Meteor, he'd debated settling down with her, maybe attempting some form of a relationship. But that would've been an insult to her – so he hadn't tried, had simply let her know in his own way that she would always be his almost-home.

Settling down with her would've been an insult to _him_.

His muscles were aching, and Cloud thought with some amusement that this was an easy way of getting extra training in without making it look like he wanted any. But he really didn't want to have to get into anymore trouble than was absolutely necessary. He'd been lucky this time – had Reno not stepped in, Cloud would've been either severely punished or kicked out of the program. And that wouldn't have been good.

The red-head had turned to look at him now that Jeffries was screeching at some other unfortunate soul on the other side of the hall. Cloud refused to look up at him though.

_What the hell is Reno up to?_

-----

Reno sauntered through Edge, heading for Seventh Heaven. He liked being a Turk, liked how people gave his suit a wide berth. Even if he was just out for a stroll, people always assumed he was on some top-secret mission, and he liked how the children looked at him in awe, the women with lust, and the men with envy.

Reno was a bastard and proud of it.

He didn't hesitate at the 'Closed' sign. He and AVALANCHE had the kind of special relationship that came from saving Cloud Strife's ass. And Reno was a regular enough customer at Seventh Heaven that Tifa even knew his favorite drink.

_Beautiful __**and **__smart_.

He sashayed in, swinging his hips and whistling some show-tune that Elena had recently downloaded onto her phone. Really, what was she _thinking? _A Turk with such a ra-ra ring-tone was just _asking_ to be disrespected.

Tifa was just standing there, looking utterly miserable and staring at nothing in particular. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had upset her this much.

_Fucking emo blondie_.

Reno slid jauntily onto a stool across from where she was standing, and habit made her move to mix his drink without looking at him or acknowledging him. He was a little crushed – he'd only bought this suit yesterday.

He supposed he should ask, but he really didn't want to know.

"He's gone."

Reno didn't react to Vincent's sudden appearance and breaking of the silence: he forced himself to remain slouching casually over the bar. Then suddenly Valentine was at his elbow and Reno was very proud of himself for not even tensing.

_This is why I'm hot._

He took a long drink from the glass Tifa slid across to him – and contemplated asking why they were acting like Strife was gone from the world. Had Blondie died or something?

"He's gone back in time."

Reno couldn't control himself this time. He choked and sputtered on his mojito and struggled not to bellow with laughter. Tifa might have been out of it, but the woman had a temper. And Vincent was half-monster, half-Turk.

_They aren't the same thing_.

Tifa's fists clenched, and Vincent settled onto the stool to Reno's left – the Turk didn't miss how Valentine angled himself so that he could plug Reno full of Cerberus' bullets before the red-head could cry "uncle".

_You can take the man out of the Turks, but you'll never take the Turk out of the man._

Reno knew that Valentine had been a Turk – had done his own research about Golden-Claw. Apparently the man had been a damned fine agent too, before Hojo had gotten his hands on him.

Now he was just freaky.

Tifa had started mopping mechanically at the mess Reno had made, and he stared through her as he pondered this latest development. Strife tended to get tangled up in the most bizarre plots and occurrences – the man had some serious issues, and only a fool wouldn't have figured out why. And Reno was not a fool, had made a name for himself as a smart man, a cunning and ruthless agent who always knew things he shouldn't. But even with all his carefully acquired knowledge he had never quite figured out how Cloud Strife had managed to save the world twice when he was so weak and un-hero-like.

"Why?" Reno voiced at last. He didn't think the Planet did refunds.

"To stop Nibelheim."

Reno was still trying to get his head around the whole time-travel thing, and the fact that Beauty and the Beast believed in it. And now apparently Strife was gone to prevent the entire Sephiroth fiasco from ever happening.

He looked at Valentine. True, the man had his issues too – anyone who locked themselves in a coffin for more than twenty years had to be seriously whacked in the head. But the dark-haired man was an ex-Turk, and that counted for something. If he seriously believed in this quantum babble then Reno would have to believe in it too.

"Good luck with that." Reno snorted, turning back to his drink. Tifa spun around to glare at him, and secretly he felt pleased with himself for shaking that glum look off her face. Not that that had been his intention at all: Reno just enjoyed nettling people, relished provoking them into revealing things about themselves that they didn't want anyone to know. He liked having options.

Vincent hadn't reacted at all, and Reno wasn't really surprised.

_Once a Turk, always a Turk_.

He had their attention now though, and he took a moment to preen aggravatingly.

"We were cadets together."

At that even Vincent's eyebrows shot up.

_Score one for the new generation. _

_This is how we do it._

Tifa was looking at him eagerly now, and under ordinary circumstances Reno would've denied her just because he liked annoying people. But this was far from ordinary – and really, she was far too beautiful to deny.

Pity she only had eyes for Strife the Sad.

He hesitated though – he really didn't want to be the one to tell them the truth, although he had a feeling they already knew it. But he honestly didn't want to be the idiot who said that Cloud Strife was a wimpy little nobody who'd been the laughing stock of the cadets.

Reno had never had a death wish.

_Unlike some people._

"Cloud wasn't the biggest of guys back then." There – as subtly and snidely as only a Turk could.

_I'm so fly_.

-----

Cadet Reno stared at the spiky blond head in front of him and wondered if he was still suffering from the after-effects of Saturday night's alcohol-poisoning race.

Because he was pretty sure that Cloud Strife had never been this…well, _cool_.

As he watched Cloud move through his push-ups, he tried to figure out what was different about the blond, and it wasn't just this surprising jump in ability or the overflow of confidence – he'd noticed the way the little blond had practically stared down Staff Sergeant Jeffries.

He wondered when Cloud had changed from moving like he wanted everyone to treat him as a tough guy and leave him alone, to moving like he knew everyone would leave him alone because he was dangerous and they knew it.

The Cloud from Saturday night was a shorty with a chip on his shoulder the size of the Plate.

This Cloud had a burden on his shoulders the weight of the Plate.

The red-head hadn't really paid attention to the blond before – he hadn't been worth it. Sure, he'd picked on him for awhile, until he'd found out that Cloud was a bastard.

While Reno had never been outside of Midgar, he knew enough about the world to know that illegitimate children were treated the same everywhere. It wasn't so bad in the slums – half the children didn't know which of their mother's customers was their dad.

_Must be worse in the Boondocks_.

So he'd backed off, and watched as the others picked on and made fun of the kid for his height, his build, his hair, his accent, his paternity, his name, his hillbilly background, everything. Reno supposed he could have helped the blond out – they did after all have two things in common: utter ignorance about their paternity, and a strong dislike for all those kids with daddies to take them to ball-games and shit like that.

If Reno had been a different person, if he hadn't had to fend for himself and look out for Number One all the time, he probably would have been a little nicer to the kid who was in _way_ over his spiky blond head. But although Reno disliked those other boys with a Mom and a Dad and a nice little roof over their heads, he disliked weakness even more.

And the little blond was _weak_.

Or at least he _had_ been Saturday night. Now though, there was only steel in his baby blue eyes – steel and a cold fire that did not bode well for those that didn't watch themselves. And Reno was wondering what exactly had happened to the retard who had glared and sulked and flunked his way through most of the cadet program.

This Cloud's weaknesses weren't the type to be exploited or mocked, Reno knew. And he wondered how he knew that when he didn't even know what had happened to turn Strife into an old man with a boy's face.

Reno would bide his time though – patience was a virtue and all that jazz. Time would reveal more than interrogations and mind games and espionage ever could. Sooner or later, Cloud would show his hand. And Reno would be there to share in the winnings.

_I'm so fly_.

-----

Zack Fair strolled along the corridor towards the General's office at exactly 12PM. He was late – as usual – rules and regulations required him to report to work by 9AM six days a week. But Zack had his privileges as The Man's Right-Hand Man, and really, only the General was ever at work before 10AM.

Sephiroth was in his office by 6AM, most days.

But the silver-haired man tended to overlook Zack's transgressions – and sometimes Zack wondered if it was because of the whole Angeal affair.

He scowled momentarily. He really didn't want to spoil his day by thinking about it.

_Think happy thoughts._

Invariably his mind moved to his favorite subject: his self-proclaimed position as Sephiroth's "Let's Be More Human" Mentor. It was one of the reasons why he was always cheerful around the older man – Sephiroth was stern enough for the both of them.

_Someone needs to discover sugar_.

Zack had started his Operation Humanize slowly, subtly. First by getting the General to realize that Zack really wasn't interested in screwing him or screwing with him – that had been _hard_. Sephiroth had been surrounded by manipulative, selfish people all his life – and even though Zack had managed to worm his way past the silver-haired man's walls, the effects of a lifetime of suspicion were obvious in the General's communication skills (or lack thereof). Sephiroth didn't talk much, didn't ask questions because he always drew his own conclusions from his observations and wealth of knowledge. When it came to people, the man was right 90% of the time because 90% of the people he dealt with were either dumb or had ulterior motives or both. But when it came to the 10% of people who truly meant well, Sephiroth had to be constantly reminded that Communication Was The Key To A Healthy Relationship.

Zack figured the best way to get Sephiroth to see people as more than idiots was for him to get to know more people. Easier said than done. Everyone tended to act funny around the General – from becoming tongue-tied super-klutzes on fainting sprees, to morphing into rabid fans with raging libidos – and continued exposure to those sorts only served to prove how right Sephiroth was. So Zack had gone for the second best option: the wonderful world of film.

Problem was, Sephiroth had probably never watched a fictional work in his life. And Zack had no idea what he'd like.

He'd gone for the middle ground – a horror movie. The two hours spent on his couch had him alternating between hiding behind the popcorn and wanting to smack his superior officer silly. Because Sephiroth had been so ridiculously derisive towards the characters and the plot and the setting – did the ghost really have to be a jilted lover with long black hair and a torn white dress? – that he hadn't stopped passing snide remarks.

It had taken Zack two weeks to convince the man to watch another movie with him. And he'd spent that two weeks in the video store trying to figure out what would tickle the General's fancy, or at least involve him enough in the story that he wouldn't keep commenting about how imbecilic everyone and everything was.

Somehow Zack didn't think that his friend would appreciate chick-flicks.

Then he'd found it – The Bone Collector.

It really wasn't the kind of show Zack usually watched – he preferred action movies or comedies. But Sephiroth would just criticize the action scenes, and Zack really doubted the man was into slapstick or lewd humor.

They'd watched the movie, and Sephiroth had been so intrigued he hadn't once moved his eyes from the screen. Zack had taken the opportunity to stuff his friend full of popcorn.

After that, Zack felt very proud of himself. He now knew what the General liked to watch – and it was their little secret. So he'd headed on down to the video store and sought out another intelligent crime story with characters that would help Sephiroth learn to see people as more than just idiots. That was when he'd spotted it: CSI.

Zack had had his misgivings – and he hadn't been sure which series to get. So he'd picked up the first season of all three, and cajoled Sephiroth into coming over.

Sephiroth had been _hooked_.

It was as close to an obsession as Zack had ever seen – the General speedily watched through all of CSI: Gold Saucer, CSI: Costa del Sol, and CSI: Junon, and then he'd watched all of them again, and again, and again. Sephiroth had become so involved in the shows and characters that after Danny married Lindsay, he'd turned a punching bag into a puddle of sand.

_Boom._

Zack chuckled to himself – sometimes Sephiroth was too funny for words. The man had a sense of humor – dry, sarcastic, and so condescending that it was actually hilarious sometimes – but it was the little things that Sephiroth did that made Zack laugh out loud. Such as the time the General had used the ladies' room because Zack had somehow burst the pipes in the men's (well _really_, someone should have mentioned that using Materia around Shinra plumbing was a Very Bad Idea).

The men's room was fixed the very next day – and it was only because he was the General that Sephiroth hadn't been questioned about the three hyperventilating women found under the sinks.

As he neared Sephiroth's office, the door opened and Tseng walked out. Zack grinned at him, and would have stopped to chat had Tseng not received a call that made him rush towards the elevator after throwing Zack a quick greeting. He liked Tseng, they got along fine (then again, Zack got along fine with most people). Tseng had even mentioned several times that Zack would have made a damned fine Turk – which was the best compliment anyone could ever receive from him. It was true that Zack could be sneaky, could be as cunning and ruthless as they came, and although the Turks were seen as spies and assassins most of the time, Zack knew that within their ranks was a kind of camaraderie and bond to rival SOLDIER's.

It was just that the Turks had to be unobtrusive, and Zack liked his swords big.

_That sounded wrong._

He flung open the door to Sephiroth's office with a flourish, and belted out a very perky "Good Morning" to a very long-suffering General.

Sephiroth didn't even bother commenting on how late Zack was, or the fact that it was already afternoon.

So Zack just sauntered in jauntily, and threw himself into the plush leather chair across the table from the General. He put his feet up on the table, and smiled to himself as he saw the General look at his boots in distaste.

_Our morning ritual_.

"So, what's new?" Zack relaxed back into the soft seat, having long ago molded it to his shape. He spent more time in Sephiroth's office than his own anyway.

Sephiroth ignored him.

Zack grinned to himself – Sephiroth usually only ignored him when he was in a good mood, or as good a mood as the General could be in without killing things. Had Sephiroth been annoyed or upset, Zack would've received either an insult or an order or a towering stack of paperwork.

_Good morning to me._

He watched Sephiroth type on his computer for awhile, and thought some more about his Get-Seph-A-Life-tis. Sephiroth really needed more friends, people whom he could spend time with and talk to and not worry about being used by. But so far, none of the other SOLDIERS seemed up to the task – the First Class were close to the General, true, but there was still a gulf there that the men didn't seem to want to cross. It was a Shinra-wide consensus that Zack was the only one who could make Sephiroth relax, and everyone seemed content to leave it at that.

Not Zack though.

He knew that Sephiroth saw him as a friend, an almost-confidante. But that wasn't enough – Sephiroth needed someone to make him smile, someone to help with the loneliness, that immeasurable distance between Sephiroth and the rest of the world.

Problem was, candidates were coming up short. Whoever it was had to be strong and smart: powerful enough to earn Sephiroth's respect, tough enough that the General wouldn't have to worry about their safety when he wasn't there, and wise enough to understand a man born to hold the world in thrall.

Zack's gaze fell on a stack of papers on the General's desk; perfectly arranged to run exactly along one side and share a corner with the table before running exactly along the side of the desk nearest to Zack.

_Cadets._

Well, if there was no one in SOLDIER right now who could step up to the plate, then maybe Zack needed to look to the next generation.

_Boom._

-----

Cloud was _exhausted_. It had been a long and tiring day, made all the more nerve-wracking by his little escapade in hand-to-hand training. Word had traveled fast, and by the time Cloud had sat down to the putrid mess that was his lunch, every other cadet was looking at him funny.

_Fuck you_.

He'd ignored them though, more focused on trying to figure out Reno's motivations. And he admitted that he was still a little mad with the red-head for not revealing that they'd been cadets together.

He was pretty sure this Reno wasn't from the future – surely he would've said _something_ by now. Although, this being Reno, Cloud really wouldn't be surprised if the Turk was deliberately withholding information just to annoy him.

After lunch was Battle Comms class – where they learned the phonetic alphabet (Cloud was pretty sure even Zack couldn't remember all his Alpha-Bravo-Charlie-Deltas), and how to make their own radios. They would be tested on it, Cloud remembered. He'd barely managed to assemble his own radio in time to rattle off the right signal – but this time he'd made sure to pay attention to the code-words they'd need to learn, and the gestures for when silence was necessary.

After Battle Comms had been First Aid – where they learned how to handle basic medical emergencies, and how to know if they were suffering from concussions. Cloud had completely zoned out in the class – he'd been beaten up enough times to become an expert medic. Even Barret had winced when he'd seen Cloud fix his own broken ribs.

Then they'd had Battle Tactics class – which was more of a glorified recount of Sephiroth's numerous strategies than anything. Cloud remembered paying plenty of attention in that class before – when he'd been eager to learn about how his idol thought. This time though, he'd sat there sick to his stomach with the memories of just how malicious Sephiroth's plans could be.

He'd almost skipped dinner, not trusting himself to be able to handle the food or the whispers from the rest of the cadets. But he'd forced himself to eat anyway, knowing he'd need the energy for his private training in the morning. He'd set himself some goals – 20 successful chin-ups and 50 successful crunches by the end of the month – easy enough to achieve. And it wasn't so much the gossip going around that bothered him – Cloud was an adult, and these were just kids – but it was more the fact that his name and Reno's had been linked, and that had made Cloud edgy for some reason.

It didn't help that the red-head hadn't said anything to Cloud yet. A part of the blond was itching to slam the future Turk against the wall and demand an explanation, but he knew that that would just get him nowhere. Reno wasn't easily intimidated – growing up in the slums and an innate Turkishness made him a very hard person to crack – and Cloud didn't want to risk revealing more of himself than he already had. Reno was an expert at needling people into letting secrets slip – and Cloud had plenty of secrets. It would've been overwhelming had he not had years of practice bottling himself up.

As it was, by the time he'd taken a quick shower and crashed into bed, he just wanted to close his eyes and slip into a dreamless slumber. But he forced himself to remain alert, at least until the others' breathing evened out. Cloud wouldn't put it past Matt's friends to attempt something on him.

_Paranoid, much?_

Cloud frowned. These were just _kids_, would they really try to kill him in his sleep? Years of being on guard 24/7 said yes, but the more exhausted part of his mind was just telling him to relax and _go to sleep_. He didn't though, preferring to rely on well-honed instincts instead of tired pleas. He knew that if he'd been his older self, no one would be able to get near enough to him to strike without him waking up and slicing their heads off. But he was just a skinny little fifteen year old here, and he was unarmed. He wasn't taking any chances.

It didn't take long for the other cadets to fall asleep, but still Cloud waited, counting each of their breaths until he was absolutely positive that they were really out cold. And then he unclenched his fists and let himself go.

As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered if it had been Zack's dark spikes he'd seen out of the corner of his eye during Battle Tactics.

*****

A/N (1): The proverb "fall seven times, stand up eight" is an actual Japanese proverb.

A/N (2): The "Relatives and Butterflies and Somebody's Cat" bit in the Barret part of this chapter refers to the Theory of Relativity, the Butterfly Effect, and Schroedinger's Cat.

A/N (3): The "Boom" in Zack's part is Danny Messer's catch-phrase from CSI:NY.


	3. Chapter 3

**Almost Karma**

**By BluWhispers**

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.

**Warnings:** Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

**A/N (1):** Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers! You guys totally made my day (some of your comments about my stolen bag really cracked me up). As a symbol of my gratitude, this chapter is LONG (more than twice the length of the previous one) and contains some rather explicit sexual content. Hope you guys like it. Flames will NOT be appreciated.

**A/N (2):** Kagenaisha asked if I will be including Crisis Core characters – I'm thinking about it. I have drafts written for both scenarios – with CC characters and without. I'm just trying to decide which would suit the story more – that, and I didn't actually play CC, my brother did. I just watched.

**A/N (3):** Lida mentioned that I should not make Cloud Zack's first choice in Operation Humanize. I agree. It would make things too easy. But I DO recognize that SephCloud bits will be a long time coming in that case, so… I threw in a little something in this chapter. It's not what you'd expect though.

*****

Reno's voice always reminded Cloud of italics. He didn't know why. It suited the red-head somehow. He was just so…_slanted_.

There was no other word for it.

Reno was never the most straightforward of people, and he was definitely not the straight and narrow kind of guy. As for his sexual preferences…well, Cloud doubted Reno was straight even there.

He couldn't believe he was even thinking about _Reno's_ sexuality. _Reno_ of all people.

_I need to get laid._

With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his messy blond hair. How long had it been since he'd sought relief? In the future, in the world where he was Cloud Strife, he certainly hadn't lacked offers. It had always been tempting to just hook up with a nameless face and a gorgeous body, but he'd never allowed himself to. He wouldn't trust some stranger with himself, with something so intimate. He'd always just stuck to that one particular partner: probably the only person in the world who wouldn't judge or misunderstand.

In this time though, as a fifteen year old wimp, he didn't think he'd find it so easy. Sure, he was pretty, he knew that – Hojo had called him so enough times that he'd come to hate looking at himself in the mirror, had come to regard his reflection with a kind of vile loathing. He didn't want to be pretty, didn't want to be seen as some sexual object. He wasn't above using his looks to get his way – Cloud was man enough to know when he needed to be a woman, or woman_ly_. And even though he knew that he could easily find someone, some other cadet or SOLDIER even who would be willing to tumble in the sheets with fifteen year old him, it felt wrong somehow.

Not when _he_ was here, and alive and sane and oh so wonderfully perfect.

Though even when they were standing right in front of each other, he'd only ever been almost there – always just out of reach, always just temptation and taunts, always just a whispered moan in the night.

_Only almost here_.

-----

Zack was watching the little blond again. He hadn't believed it when he'd heard about how the kid had broken another cadet's arm and apparently hadn't even broken a sweat. Jeffries was a no-nonsense man, and, unlike Payne, the Staff Sergeant could be trusted to remain sober on the job. So if Jeffries had insisted that it was the tiny little nobody from the mountains who'd somehow thrown a boy twice his size to the ground and snapped his radial bone clean through his skin, then it had to be true. Zack had seen the x-rays, had spoken to the doctors in charge and they'd all said the same thing. First, there was no way the Matt kid was going to be able to complete cadet training this year – his arm would take months to heal, even with Materia and potions. Second, that it had been a clean, proper break, the kind that was only possible with the proper application of strength and torque. Which stumped Zack, because even _he_ couldn't break limbs that cleanly. He wondered how the little cadet had done it, when he looked like he could barely even throw a punch hard enough to make Zack stumble.

Jeffries hadn't seen the technique the cadet had used, had only heard the snap of Matt's bone breaking and seen the del Sol boy on the ground, with Strife standing over him looking horrified and panicked. Further discussions revealed that Strife (what the hell kind of name was _that_ anyway_ - _someone was just _asking_ for trouble) was the quintessential runt of the litter – a no-talent nobody who'd tried and failed more times than Zack changed bed-partners.

So where had this sudden ruthless ability come from? For there was no doubt about it: the little blond was _ruthless_. To have pulled something like this on another cadet, even though, according to Jeffries, the other kid had provoked it, was plain cold. Zack had never harmed another cadet or SOLDIER like that, not even in the throes of his most violent fury. He knew that Sephiroth had though, but that wasn't his fault. Sephiroth just didn't know his own strength sometimes. This Nibelheim kid, on the other hand, he must have known what he was doing – must have had plenty of practice. And somehow that saddened Zack; the fact that a fifteen year old boy had had to master such deadly tactics in order to defend himself.

_How many times were you beaten to the ground before that?_

A part of him bore a grudging respect though, even as another part of him was a little disgusted with what he'd imagined of the boy's life. This kid obviously wasn't the kind to bend over and take it; this little chocobo had _balls_.

And balls were a very good thing to have.

So Zack had decided to do his own recon on the boy. Not only because he'd promised Sephiroth he'd do it (even though the General had completely ignored him when he'd said it), but because Zack's curiosity was piqued. Heck, even _Tseng_ had been skulking around spying on the kid – word had traveled that fast. Zack had burst into the General's office with the news only to see his friend already reading a report on the matter. If Zack had been anyone else, if he hadn't trained himself to speak 'Sephiroth' ages ago, he would've thought the General was unimpressed and simply annoyed with the extra paperwork. But Zack was Zack, and he'd seen the sharp focus in the General's green eyes, the way they were only slightly narrowed and the way his cheekbones were thrown into sharper relief by the set of his jaw.

Sephiroth was intrigued.

It was that more than anything that had made Zack run around Shinra wheedling information out of anyone who might know anything. The instructors all said the same thing though – Cloud Strife was useless. And none of them could explain this bizarre occurrence, some of them chalking it up to sheer dumb luck.

Payne had even suggested that Matt had tripped on his own and Strife had tried to catch him.

_Wanker._

When he'd reported the fruits of his labor back to Sephiroth, the General had simply glanced at him and then turned to his computer and flagged Strife's personnel file. It was a clear sign – the discussion was over for now. So Zack had trotted on out and spoken to Tseng about it. At least the Turk had seemed remotely interested – and he'd done his own digging. But a comparison by the two only served to prove how Turk-ish Zack could be – he'd found out the exact same things that Tseng had.

Now Zack was back and watching the kid from the shadows of the hallway. The cadets were in sword training, and they looked absolutely ridiculous. They wouldn't be able to defend themselves with those katas, not even against an ageing grandmother armed only with a bright pink umbrella. But the whole point of the routine was to instill the basics in them, and to teach them to view their weapons as an extension of themselves and not as a stupid piece of metal in their hands. Those who grasped this concept were in a much better position when it came to actual SOLDIER training.

It seemed Strife would have no problems at all.

He moved with a kind of even grace that Zack had only seen in the General – the kind of familiarity and intelligence that could only come from years of living by the sword. Zack could tell that the instructors were a little dumbstruck by this – they were observing the blond closely, but the kid, to Zack's amusement and amazement, had completely zoned out. His sky blue eyes were glassy and turned inward, and he looked like he was _day-dreaming_. While beating another cadet to a pulp with a dented metal pole that might have been a practice sword ten years ago.

_Awesome!_

Zack was grinning to himself, he knew. And he was bouncing on his feet slightly – this was just too fascinating. The kid was obviously well-trained, and had probably been hiding his incredible talent for some reason or other. But now he was pulling out most of the stops, and it was obvious that he was a Somebody. He was a Perfect Candidate for Zack's Operation Humanize.

All at once the SOLDIER First felt terrible. He had never been the type to use others, because he hated being used himself. And yet here he was, looking at a fifteen year old kid who'd probably been used and abused all his life like a tool – a means to an end. It was downright hypocritical of him, and he hated himself all of a sudden. Hadn't he learned enough from Angeal and Genesis?

_Don't even go there._

Shaking off the dark vice that gripped his heart whenever he thought about his former mentor, Zack tried to think the Operation through. Sure, the blond would be perfect for Sephiroth – he was obviously highly skilled with swords.

_That sounded wrong._

What was it with him and swords? Zack shook his head, aware that anyone who saw him now would most likely think that he had gone insane, skulking about poorly lit Shinra corridors and muttering to himself. But he knew that whoever it was who saw him would just chalk it up to him being Zack Fair anyway, so he wasn't concerned. No, Zack was more concerned with how to go about approaching the blond kid without having any ulterior motives. He supposed he should try to befriend the kid first, maybe get to know him a little better and see if he really could be The One. It would take time, Zack knew. He could already tell from the way the blond held himself that he was the standoffish type - aloof and wary and suspicious by nature.

_Just like Seph._

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, introducing this cadet to the General. He'd worked hard at getting the silver-haired man to open up, to relax, and if this cadet came along with his frigid eyes and ruthless nature, it might just make the General believe that such behavior was alright. Then all of Zack's hard work would have been for nothing.

On the other hand, maybe the Strife kid would be able to understand the General better, seeing as how they were so similar in the way they conducted themselves – cold, controlled, and commanding.

Whatever the case, Zack wasn't about to rush into it. And he was going to keep his options open. Zack might have been a happy-go-lucky carefree type, with a gambler's love of risk, but he wasn't about to put all his eggs in one basket. Not when the happiness of a friend was in the pot. No, he'd play his cards carefully with this one. Maybe search out some other candidates for his Get-Seph-A-Life-tis. If Spiky was triumphant in the end then that would mean that he was the best man for the job.

_I sound like Shinra._

Zack's mouth turned down slightly. He never wanted to become even remotely similar to the Fat President. But here he was, plotting and planning to use cadets like pawns. He tried to reassure himself that he was doing this for a friend, and _really_, which cadet wouldn't want to be The One For The General? It was practically the only reason they joined cadet training.

Sighing, Zack turned to walk away. It was no use. He had never been the manipulative sort, had never liked using others for his own purposes. Sure, he did it sometimes, but that was only because he'd had to – for SOLDIER. Sephiroth was important to him, they were friends, but Zack would never be able to live with himself if he simply used someone to make his friend happy. No, Zack would either approach the blond with the sole intention of being his friend, or not at all.

He turned to glance back at the cadets training. And nearly tripped over his feet. A pair of brilliant blue eyes was staring straight at him, coolly assessing, face completely expressionless but not hostile. And suddenly Zack felt very much like an errant child, caught in a lie by an adult and not knowing what to do because fear and trepidation had pretty much blanked out everything upstairs.

Then the eyes turned away, and Zack could breathe again. It was odd, that one suspended moment in time when Zack had suddenly felt like something was going on here that was completely out of place, out of order. The kid's eyes had reminded Zack of Sephiroth's when he thought Zack wasn't looking – old, knowing, and hard.

_Who ARE you?_

That one look pretty much cemented his resolve. He would get to know the cadet.

It wouldn't be hard to like him, Zack mused, watching as several other cadets jeered (for absolutely NO reason) at the little blond who didn't even deign to acknowledge their immaturity with a change in expression. This kid was obviously a fighter, obviously someone who had the kind of strength of character that could only come from being beaten to the ground again and again and having to rise on his own each time. He was tough, and that was a good thing. Zack liked tough people, liked those who refused to give up, refused to be anything other than the best that they could be.

But the kid was also someone who had obviously suffered, and Zack's heart went out to him. He didn't know what the blond could have suffered to make him such an old man with a boy's face – he was only fifteen after all – but the dark-haired SOLDIER knew it had to have been pretty terrible. Zack was a caring and generous person by nature, and, even though he had never been bullied in his life, he hated bullies with a passion. He liked to help others, liked to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. It was why he'd become a SOLDIER. Sure, he'd been impressed by Sephiroth – who wouldn't be? But more than that, Zack had joined Shinra purely to become strong enough to stand up for what he believed in. He'd always fancied himself as something of a knight in shining armor, always believed in honor and chivalry and compassion. And he was determined to help the little blond cadet become who he was born to be. The kid had talent, and obviously no lack of skill or experience. As to why he'd hidden it in the first place, Zack would find out sooner or later – Zack was soldier enough to know when he needed to be a Turk. But for now, all that would matter was making friends with a boy who stood alone, hiding his loneliness behind frigid blue eyes and pale, tight lips.

-----

_I need a cigarette._

Cloud's chest was aching, and he longed for the familiar feeling of inhaling the toxic mixture of nicotine and tar into his lungs. It wouldn't do, of course. Smoking right now would only affect his stamina, and he was working hard on improving it. When he had been genetically-enhanced, it hadn't made a difference. Mako and Jenova cells had made him practically immune to illness and disease – and he'd only smoked because he wanted a high. Even if smoking HAD affected his fighting ability somehow, he hadn't noticed. It wasn't like there was anyone alive who could keep up with his speed anyway. Cloud knew he was good, knew he was the best, but he felt no joy at the fact, took no pride in it. Because the events of recent days had only served to remind him of how much of his ability he owed to Hojo. Without the experiments, without the enhancements, he was weak, ineffectual. His skill with the sword had only been as a result of the part of Zack that he'd refused to let go of anyway. And he didn't mind it – Zack was the true hero, not him. Whenever Cloud took down another enemy, whenever he killed again for the sake of the world, he was doing it in Zack's place. Because Zack was the reason Cloud was alive, Zack was the true master of the Buster Sword, and Zack was the one who should have saved the world and lived to enjoy the fruits of his labor. It was true that Cloud had left Nibelheim to be a hero, had wanted to join SOLDIER and take on tough missions to prove himself – but he realized now that he would never have become a Somebody had it not been for Hojo and Zack.

Hojo had made things easier for Cloud, had made him the man that would go on to become the most respected warrior on the planet. And a part of Cloud actually wished that he had some of that tweaking now, because maybe it would help him make SOLDIER and become somebody worth knowing.

But short cuts come at a price, and Cloud knew he wouldn't want to pay for a jumpstart again. The first time had been the last time. This time he would make it on his own - never mind the fact that he was skinny and short and downright girly-looking. He HAD to get stronger, better, faster. It was his only chance, THEIR only chance.

He really needed to smoke though. Or at least get drunk enough to forget about the ache in his chest that came from seeing Zack again. It had been almost surreal, the sight of the dark-haired SOLDIER watching him during sword training. He'd stood rooted to the spot, muscles completely frozen in place, and a part of him had been glad for that – otherwise he'd probably have run over and launched himself at his long-dead friend and bawled his eyes out.

It had been painful though, because seeing Zack again had opened the floodgates of his memory and Cloud had been inundated with visions of Zack – lying on a cliff all broken and bleeding and yet somehow still managing to reassure Cloud that everything was going to be alright, that Cloud would be _safe_; sitting in the back of a pick-up and trying to act as though the world hadn't fallen down around them and that they hadn't just escaped a mad scientist's cage after God knows how long; Zack standing proud and defiant in the face of men and monsters and machines, his Buster Sword gleaming in the moonlight like his glowing deep blue eyes; Zack, Zack, _Zack._

This Zack was younger than Cloud remembered, his black spikes not nearly as long, his face less worn and weary. But there had been something in his eyes that had made Cloud a little uneasy, because he couldn't for the life of him ever remember Zack looking at him with such a coolly assessing gaze. Zack had always had a smile on his face or a concerned frown to his eyes whenever he looked at Cloud. And Cloud couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to make his friend look at him like he was a stranger.

_We aren't friends yet, idiot_.

Sometimes Cloud wondered if they'd ever really been friends, if it hadn't just been his imagination misconstruing Zack's concern for someone so obviously weaker than himself. Sure, they'd spoken often about their hometowns, and Cloud could remember the weight of Zack's arm around his shoulders more than once. But friends were more than just people with a shared history, weren't they? Friends were _equals_, and Cloud had never really been on par with Zack. Had always been just one step behind, trailing after the dark-haired man like a pathetic little puppy, and when Zack had died it had taken him further away from Cloud than ever; and it was then that Cloud had realized that he could never, _would_ never, measure up to the other man no matter how hard he tried. Because Zack was wonderful and warm and smart and strong and popular, and Cloud was the useless little nobody who'd gotten him killed.

No matter. Zack was alive here, and Nibelheim was a ways off. Cloud would not let Zack die, would not allow Sephiroth to go crazy. If he died trying, so be it. Cloud had always felt that it had been sheer dumb luck that had gotten him so far anyway – luck and an angel with a pink ribbon in her hair. And if he died, then maybe he wouldn't have to spend his nights wishing he was somebody more special, someone worthy of _his_ bed and attention.

_Goddammit_.

Did everything have to come back to _him_?

_Duh_.

Of course it did. He had ruled Cloud's entire life ever since he'd first seen him on the news, and all the death and destruction and mayhem in the world would never change that. Cloud's entire life had been devoted to him – first towards attempting to become a SOLDIER to get close to him; then chasing him all around the world in an attempt to put an end to his insane plot; then just mourning him and thinking about him and wishing he'd had the guts to just _take_ what he wanted when he'd had the chance.

_Well, now's your chance. Go ask him to marry you, chocobo-head._

Cloud wondered what Sephiroth would do if he got down on one knee and proposed to him. Probably run him through with the Masamune and hold him over a fire like a chocobo-colored marshmallow.

_Better go prepared with a REALLY big diamond._

Cloud almost laughed himself silly at the thought, and dimly he was aware at how hysterical he was becoming. He was losing his already tenuous grip on his sanity, and trying to keep himself behaving like a fifteen year old wimp had taxed his control to its limits. Not to mention the fact that he had more secrets than Hojo's lab had freaks. It was all becoming too much, and Cloud longed for someone to talk to, someone whom he could confide in, someone who would just bloody _tell_ him that it would be OK.

_Pathetic_.

He was stronger than this. He wasn't some stupid teenaged girl all broken up over some dumb jock who'd played her. He was Cloud Strife, and if he could save the world twice then he could damn well deal with the effects of time-travel. He was just tired, that was all. Tired and exhausted and hungry – he hadn't been able to eat more than half a plate of Shinra food at a time, because no matter how absolutely starving he was the mere sight of cadet chow was enough to make him ill.

_Quit being so goddamned picky_.

Starting tonight, he would force himself to finish everything that was on his plate. He needed to bulk up - and even though he had no idea what was in the Unidentified Food-ish Objects, he knew that Shinra would want to churn out SOLDIERS and would therefore ensure that all meals held _some_ semblance of nutrition.

The cadets were walking down a hallway, heading for Theory of Materia class. It would bore Cloud to tears, he knew, but he really needed to know exactly what they taught cadets so he wouldn't accidentally reveal the depth of his knowledge and experience. As they were trudging down the cold passage, he was drawn out of his reverie by the whispers and nudges going on around him.

_Oh, grow up._

He would have sneered if he wasn't such an emotionally-constipated man. A part of him was calling himself a snob, because _really_, when _he'd_ been fifteen he'd been much more childish than the others. Another part of him was quite smugly satisfied with being an adult now, thank you very much.

"_The General!" _

That low, urgent, reverent whisper was enough to make Cloud start, and he lifted his head, catching sight of the General approaching them from another hallway on the left. Cloud's heart decided to become a chocobo on a trampoline right then – and he could've sworn he was about to puke the damned organ out.

Sephiroth was as magnificent as ever.

The General was dressed in a business suit – which was downright strange to Cloud, because he couldn't remember ever seeing the man in anything other than his trademark leather get-up – but he looked _good_. Cloud used to think that only Rufus and the Turks could pull off suits that well (even Reno had looked fashionable despite his state of disarray), but Sephiroth made them look like unrefined hillbillies.

The man had _style_. And he was hot and he knew it.

Dimly Cloud was aware that his hands were shaking, and if he hadn't been wearing those God-awful Shinra-issued fatigues his knees would probably have been knocking out the Morse Code for S-E-X.

Sephiroth was wearing a tailored black suit and a crisp white dress-shirt, with a black tie and silver cufflinks that glinted in the ugly fluorescent lighting. His hair was tucked behind his ears, though an errant strand was flitting about his face as he bent his head slightly to speak to the three other SOLDIERS around him. They were dressed in their uniforms, and the contrast only served to further highlight the General's _je ne sais quoi_. He was a wet-dream walking down a Shinra catwalk, surrounded by burly bodyguards. He was everything Cloud had ever wanted and could never have.

He forced himself to turn away, and caught sight of Hojo approaching from the other direction. The expression on the scientist's face was one that Cloud had come to recognize, and instantly the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and the heat that had rushed to his face upon seeing the General instantly disappeared, only to be replaced by a cold hatred and a knot of fear in his stomach. Cloud knew that look, had seen it directed at himself enough times to know that it meant that somebody was gonna get hurt real bad, and it would be in the name of Science.

The panic was rising, because he honestly hadn't been prepared for running into Sephiroth and Hojo anytime soon, let alone at the _same_ _bloody time_. He didn't think he could move, breathing was becoming something his body had decided it could do without. He supposed he should consider himself lucky that most of the other cadets had also stopped to gawk at their idol. No one else had noticed Hojo, and no one else had noticed Cloud's terror.

He turned to look back at the General. The silver-haired man hadn't noticed Hojo yet, or was intent on ignoring the scientist. But Cloud knew that determined expression of Hojo's, and he knew what Hojo wanted, even though some irrational part of his mind was screaming that Hojo was after _him_, that Hojo wanted to turn _him_ into a Sephiroth clone right then and there.

Hojo didn't know Cloud existed yet. And Cloud wasn't about to let him. It was good to be short.

However, Cloud also didn't want Hojo anywhere near Sephiroth. So he did the only thing he could think of – he tripped.

As fate would have it, the cadets had been passing through an intersection that was having some maintenance work done. There were several ladders and toolboxes strewn about, and some new light-fixtures were propped against the walls, waiting to be installed by the repairmen who were lounging around taking a short break. When Cloud tripped, he knocked against Brian Tranton, who had been too busy gaping at the General to pay attention to where he was going anyway. The brown-haired boy then promptly knocked into another cadet who was standing rooted next to one of the maintenance ladders, and the cheap piece of metallic footing fell to the ground with a loud _clang_. It also happened to knock over the ladder closest to it, and thus began a delightful domino effect.

By the time the cacophony had ended, Hojo's way was completely barred, and Cloud couldn't resist the triumphant little smirk that made its way to his lips. He quickly schooled his expression into one of polite interest when out of the corner of his eye he noticed the General looking at him.

_He knows._

In his haste to preserve the object of his affections from Hojo's violations, Cloud had forgotten just how very observant Sephiroth was. The silver-haired man would have noticed that Cloud had tripped on purpose, would have seen the hastily smothered smirk. And the General was smart enough to put two and two together.

Sephiroth knew that Cloud had stopped Hojo on purpose.

Cloud wanted to throw up. As it was, the uproar created by the maintenance crew and the cadets gave him just the excuse he needed, and he slipped away quickly to run to the nearest bathroom and kneel to the commode gods.

_Fuck._

This was going to come back and bite him – like a Karmic Boomerang come to enact the Three-Fold Law by shoving itself up his arse.

_Fuck me._

What would Cloud do if Hojo came after him? What would Cloud do if the General wanted to know why he'd stopped the scientist and taken such pleasure in it? What would Cloud do if Sephiroth asked why he cared?

_Fuck me SIDEWAYS_.

This was not good.

-----

Reno had his reasons for not approaching Cloud yet. He needed to do his homework on the blond, figure out what the change was, what had caused it, and how best to handle the situation. The red-head wasn't the kind of idiot to charge in blindly - he liked knowing his escape routes before entering any sort of fray. And he knew without a doubt that dealing with Strife was going to be more of a battle than anything. _How_ he knew that, he had no idea. He just did.

He looked up from where the cadets were trying to help the maintenance crew pick up their fallen tools. The General had disappeared long ago with nothing but an indifferent look in their direction, and the SOLDIERS with him had snickered slightly at the bumbling cadets, but that was all. The scientist, on the other hand, _Hojo_ or something or other, had had a few choice words for the boys. Reno had taken one good look at the man and decided he didn't like him. Instincts honed from years of living on the streets had practically screamed at him to run and never look back.

Reno would have to figure out what the deal was with the freak in the lab coat.

He frowned slightly when he realized that Blondie was missing. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the blond since the ladders and toolboxes fell. He wondered where he'd gone, then wondered why the kid had hightailed it out of there so quickly. Perhaps Spiky was avoiding the General? Or maybe the scientist? Whichever the reason, Reno wanted to know _why_. Every cadet, Reno included, longed for whatever glimpses of the General that they could get. The silver-haired man rarely deigned to grace the wannabes with his presence, and Reno had heard that only SOLDIER Seconds got to see him more than the few times a year when ceremonies required his presence.

The General was a _snob_.

Somehow that explanation didn't fit the man though. Reno was smart enough to see beyond the obvious, experienced enough with people to be able to understand their motivations – and what he knew of the man didn't seem to tie-in with such arrogance. Sure, the General was a proud man – he had every right to be. He was the best, the greatest, and he knew it. But Reno had never heard anyone speak ill of him – and he doubted that it had anything to do with fear of retribution. No, from what Reno had gathered, it seemed all the SOLDIERS revered him, and treated him with a kind of affectionate solidarity. So the only other explanation for the General's behavior towards anyone below Second Class was that he just didn't have the time to get to know everyone. Which seemed fair, given that he was General of not just SOLDIER but the regulation army, and there were too many members to get to know personally.

Reno wondered when he'd decided to make excuses for someone he didn't even know.

He turned his attention back to the latest conundrum – Cloud Strife. He'd stepped in for the blond during the Matt-fiasco almost instinctively – somehow the way Jeffries had been screeching at the indifferent kid had rubbed him the wrong way. And Reno knew all too well that the surfer and his buddies enjoyed picking on Cloud, because he was a wimp who didn't tattle. So if the shorty decided that he wasn't going to take their crap anymore, then Reno had no choice but to respect him.

He wondered where Cloud had picked up such a technique though. Perhaps he'd developed it himself? That seemed a likely explanation – Reno had never seen anyone move like that, and it seemed that the method was designed to take down bigger opponents. Which meant that all this while the blond had had the ability to beat any bully to a pulp with ease – so why hadn't he? Why had he endured their taunts and hazing? Prior to the Matt incident, Strife had always clenched his fists and looked furious with his tormentors, and everyone had assumed that he hadn't lashed out because he was simply too weak to. But after this serious display of skill, everyone, Reno included, had revised their opinions of the blond. The reason Spiky hadn't fought back before was because he hadn't wanted to hurt anyone.

It seemed that displaying his hidden abilities had brought out a different side to Cloud. No longer did he look upset with jeers or insults – it was just water rolling off a duck's back. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the other brats who needed to group together in order to feel brave enough to annoy him. No, this new Cloud was the kind of guy who didn't bother with childish pranks – he simply ignored them, knowing full well that he could take on anyone who came at him.

_Not ANYONE._

Reno was taller than the blond, and he had muscles that he'd painstakingly developed in the slums. Plus, he fought dirty, fast, and furious – Slum Style. He doubted that Cloud could take him as easily as he had Matt. A week ago Reno would have said that he could wipe the floor with Spiky easy – now he knew he'd have to work to drop the kid. Still didn't mean he couldn't though.

_I'm flyer than he is._

Still, Reno knew better than to antagonize someone so obviously deadly. He'd made up his mind that he would get to know the kid, try to find out what had brought on this sudden change. Now if only he could figure out where the blond was and corner him before Materia Theory class.

He was disappointed though. The group of cadets reached their class only to find Strife already there and seated in a corner at the back. Reno resolved to speak to the blond after class, or during dinner.

He spent the entire hour trying not to fall asleep. He didn't need this class to know the theory behind how Materia worked, had heard enough stories in the slums to figure it out for himself. Yawning, he glanced at Strife. The kid hardly seemed to be paying attention either, lost in his own thoughts and looking paler than usual. Reno wondered what was wrong, then figured it was just the after-effects of seeing The Great General.

_Another fan. Surprise, surprise._

Somehow Reno had been expecting this new Strife to be different from the other cadets – not as easily taken in by the Glamour Of Sephiroth. He supposed that was stupid though – Spiky had been The Man's Number One Fan since Day One of cadet training. If he had a poster of the General it'd probably be pinned up over his bunk and covered in bodily fluids.

Reno had to admit the General was imposing, a sight to behold. He wasn't usually easily awed or impressed, but the man had a way about him, or maybe it was the ridiculous good looks and perfect build that just _screamed_ sublimity. Either way, Reno found himself wanting to see the silver-haired man again. He scowled instantly. Surely he had more self-respect than to stoop to the level of a rabid fan?

_Be a Man._

He pushed all thoughts of the General aside, and decided to simply focus on Strife. It would be a welcome diversion – cadet training was ridiculously boring, and the only reason Reno had joined was because he'd seen the Turks wandering around the slums before and had been impressed by their suits and shades. He knew that the only way to become an operative was by becoming a cadet; and _that_ had been the only reason why he'd hauled himself over to the Recruitment Drive.

Reno knew he'd make the suit look good.

He glanced at Cloud again, and nearly fell off his chair in shock when a sudden thought seized him.

_Damn, he's pretty._

Horrified, Reno glanced back down at his textbook, though he couldn't for the life of him make out any of the words smirking at him from the cheap pages. What the hell was _wrong _with him? Strife was just a _kid_. Well, technically they were about the same age, but Reno had somehow always felt older than everyone else in cadet training – simply because he'd had to grow up fast under the plate. Strife had always struck him as younger than everyone else, and it wasn't just because he was practically the smallest of the lot – the kid had had such innocence in his eyes that Reno had always thought him to be twelve at the most. Now though, he had a man's eyes – the kind of look that Reno had only seen on those who'd grown up tough. Suddenly Cloud seemed to be about the same age that Reno felt.

That still didn't make it OK to be checking him out.

_I need to get laid._

Reno sighed inaudibly, grateful for the fact that their droning instructor had managed to put everyone to sleep without actually using Sleep Materia. It wouldn't do for anyone to notice his consternation. Reno was one of the cool kids, had become Mr Popular the instant he'd entered training – true, some of the others had tried to give him grief over being a street-rat, but that was before they realized exactly _why_ Reno had survived this long on his own. After that, there had been nothing but respect for him, although the red-head had viewed his 'friends' with barely concealed disdain. They honestly thought this was a popularity contest? These stupid boys who had homes and families and toys growing up – they knew _nothing_ of the world, they knew nothing of what lay ahead on this path. Reno had no illusions of grandeur, no expectations of heroism or honor. He wanted to be a Turk, and he was more than happy to do his share of dirty work. It was what he was used to anyway. Every man for himself, and may the best man win.

Reno wondered how long it'd been since he'd met someone whom he could deem an equal – at least mentally. Now it seemed that Cloud's jump in maturity was making Reno realize just how very effeminate and attractive the blond was – he was striking in his own way, different from the General's arresting features but remarkable nonetheless. And even though Reno considered himself a man, he had a boy's body and his hormones were kicking into overdrive after prolonged abstinence. The red-head had had his fair share of offers since coming to Shinra - well _duh_, he was hot _and_ fly – but he hadn't taken them all up, had stuck with more discerning partners who were mature enough to keep it on the down low.

Somehow Reno knew that Cloud would be the type to understand that such things were just acts of need and not want.

_Forget it!_

He willed himself to stop thinking about Cloud that way, and glanced back at the blond only to find a pair of baby blues locked on his. He really couldn't help noticing how goddamned _pretty_ the other boy was.

_Goddammit!_

Cloud was looking at him almost coldly, as though he was trying to figure out what Reno's interest in him was and disliking said interest regardless of Reno's motivations. The red-head just smirked at him.

_This is why I'm hot_.

He was surprised when Cloud's perusal didn't even waver, and the blond simply raised an eyebrow at him. It was almost…arrogant, this behavior of Strife's, and Reno really cursed himself for finding it so bloody _hot_. He liked spunk, he liked his partners tough, and it was obvious that this new Cloud had balls.

_And balls are a very good thing to have_, his traitorous mind supplied helpfully.

Reno broke the stare, not trusting his eyes not to give away his bluer thoughts. Cloud would have definitely picked up on it, and the red-head wasn't about to give anyone any leverage over him. He tried to think about something else to calm his suddenly raging libido. He was in the middle of _class_ for God's sake.

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini._

That worked like a charm.

Reno was going to have to be very careful around the blond. It seemed the kid knew he was pretty, and knew how to use his looks to his advantage.

_Pretty fly for a white boy._

-----

Sephiroth had been only moderately successful at forgetting about the blond cadet. He'd made it back to his office without thinking about the boy, but as soon as he was seated behind his desk the memory of the hastily smothered smirk made him itch to pick up the phone and order the cadet into his office for questioning.

He didn't, though. He was the General, and he had learned to control himself from an early age. So he simply turned on his computer and looked at Cadet Strife's personnel file. And frowned. The boy hadn't had his Mako testing yet – this group of cadets was still a ways off. So why the dislike for Hojo? Why had he deliberately stopped the scientist in the hallway? Sure, he'd made it look like he'd tripped accidentally, but Sephiroth was no idiot. The blond had done it on purpose, had _wanted_ to foil Hojo.

The General looked over the file again. There was nothing to indicate that Strife and Hojo had had any contact – but then again Sephiroth didn't expect Hojo to care about noting down such things. If the scientist got it into his head to perform his 'tests' on cadets, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him or get him to file the relevant paperwork.

Was that it, then? Had Hojo already met the cadet, perhaps injected him with something? That WOULD explain the arm-snapping routine – the cadet's performance reports had hitherto evinced no claim to skill or strength. The boy hadn't had a Mako glow though, so if Hojo really was doing something to him it was something even Sephiroth didn't know about.

He didn't like it.

But there was nothing much he could do about it – if he spoke to the cadet it would raise more than a few eyebrows, and it would definitely put the blond on Hojo's radar, if he wasn't already. Sephiroth was not deaf – he knew that there were plenty of rumors going around about him and his 'leisure activities' – there were many who even believed that _Zack_ was the one warming the General's bed most nights. And if he suddenly displayed an interest in a cadet, it would most definitely be misconstrued, and Sephiroth really didn't need more paperwork.

But he really wanted answers.

So he did the only thing he could think of: he called Zack into his office and sicced the SOLDIER on the kid. Zack had been only too happy to oblige – and that had made Sephiroth suspicious, until the dark-haired man had explained.

He hadn't made much sense, but then again such was Zack's way of talking when he was excited. Still, Sephiroth had plenty of experience sorting through Zack's muddled exaggerations, and he finally distilled that this cadet was displaying a maturity and skill far beyond his years. It was definitely odd – the boy was barely sixteen, and from a backwater mountain town. Zack's theory of bullying seemed plausible, but then there was the question of _why_ Strife had hidden his talents in the first place?

Sephiroth didn't have to be a CSI addict to know that to solve a puzzle one needed to gather evidence. And he _was_ the General for a reason – Zack schlepped, he oversaw. So he kicked Zack out of his office and ordered him to gather information – that is, Sephiroth simply raised an eyebrow at Zack, gave him a disinterested look that he knew Zack wasn't buying, and turned back to his work.

Zack took the bait – hook, line, and sinker. The man really was too easy.

_Boom._

-----

Cloud was sitting in his usual spot and trying to make do on his earlier resolution to finish his food. It was harder than any battle he'd ever fought – Shinra chow was _disgusting_, even by Cloud's standards. And he wasn't exactly the pickiest or most pampered of eaters.

A clatter startled him, and he looked up, only to see Reno's lanky form settling into the seat across from him. _This_ surprised him, but in a way he was glad that it was the red-head who was initiating the contact. Cloud hadn't been sure how to approach the future Turk – Reno was far too confusing and sneaky for a direct approach, but Cloud hadn't been able to think of any other way of talking to him. This was a good start.

The red-head didn't say anything for awhile, but Cloud wasn't fooled. He could tell that Reno was playing a waiting game – to see if Cloud would break and make the first move. The blond was glad to disappoint.

Eventually, Reno stopped stuffing his face long enough to look up at Cloud, and the blond steeled himself for the inevitable headache.

"What's up?"

Cloud wanted to smack him. Trust Reno to put so much weight and nuance behind two simple words. There was any number of ways for his response to be taken, and Cloud had to think hard and fast for an answer. Too long and Reno would definitely get suspicious, too quick and the red-head would know he was hiding something.

So Cloud just shrugged. He was pleased to see the brief flash of irritation in Reno's eyes, but he hadn't been prepared for the look of satisfaction. So Reno had been hoping that he'd be elusive? What the hell was _that_ about?

Around him he could make out the frenzied whispers and gossip that had taken over the mess hall. Reno was a popular kid, he had plenty of cool friends. Cloud was the wimpy loner whom no one spoke to except out of derision or pity. Together they made for an odd couple – but for once Cloud was glad for Reno's company. It helped to have a familiar face before him.

"I heard Matt won't be taking the exams with us," Reno's tone was measured, too even to be casual. "He'll have to wait and start training over again next intake."

Cloud didn't know how to respond to that. He felt a little bad for the del Sol boy, because he knew what it was like to have your dreams snatched brutally away from you. But on the other hand, the surfer had deserved it.

So he just shrugged again. "He had it coming," he said, noncommittally. The last thing he wanted was for Reno to think that he was out for revenge. Though it _had_ been sweet.

_Oh, grow up._

What was he, fifteen? Sure he was _physically_, but mentally and emotionally he should be past such pettiness. He'd have thought that with all his experiences he would've been more mature than to feel such smug satisfaction, but a part of him had never forgotten the pain and shame he'd been subjected to as a cadet.

He _was_ only human after all.

Reno just nodded, looking at Cloud with sharp, intelligent eyes before turning back to his food. Cloud was content to mimic him, and he found that with Reno there as a distraction, he was actually managing to clean his plate.

_Something else Turks are good for._

As it was, Cloud hadn't been expecting Reno's next question.

"Whatcha doin' this weekend?"

Cloud glanced up sharply, suspicion no doubt etched all over his childish face. Even in the future, after all they'd gone through, he and Reno had never really hung out together. Sure, there was the odd drink now and then when they'd both been in Seventh Heaven at the same time, but that was the extent of their socializing outside of saving the world.

And now Reno wanted to know what Cloud was doing during the weekend? _Why_?

He took awhile to answer, but Reno's face gave nothing away.

_Once a Turk, always a Turk._

"Dunno," Cloud replied at last. "Probably just studying. Might head down under the plate for a walk."

Reno nodded. "Sounds good. I've been meaning to go to Wall Market. Care to join?"

"Sure."

Cloud frowned internally. He hadn't had to think about the response, had just accepted the invitation readily, as though Reno was a friend and not someone he should be wary of.

He supposed he didn't really have to be afraid of the red-head. After all, he knew how he thought, knew his motivations and his future. But instincts were instincts, and habit had made him a deeply cautious man. Still, it wouldn't hurt to head to the slums with Reno. He was a local after all, and maybe, just maybe, they might even get along.

Then Cloud would actually have someone to talk to.

_Yippee-ka-yay._

He wondered what that would feel like. He'd never really had a friend – Zack had been snatched away from him too quickly, and even then they'd been companions more out of necessity and circumstance than anything. Cloud was smart enough to know that Reno had his own motivations for getting to know him, and he knew it was most likely because of his sudden change in behavior. But he didn't see the harm in hanging out with the red-head – as long as he didn't do anything stupid to reveal his secrets, everything would be fine.

He would have to be on guard though. Reno was a sneaky bastard, and Cloud could be ridiculously blond sometimes.

They finished the rest of the meal in silence, Reno actually waiting for Cloud to put his utensils down before getting up to dump his tray. Cloud followed suit, and they left the mess hall together, the red-head giving his usual posse a wave before heading out behind the blond.

Cloud wondered if he should say something. The silence was a little nerve-wracking, and it was only years of control that stopped him from showing any signs of discomfort. He was rather proud of himself.

"So, Cloud," Reno started, stretching and lacing his hands behind his head, "Have you finished your homework?"

_I knew it._

If Reno wanted to borrow his notes, that was fine with Cloud. He was glad he hadn't doodled anything discriminating despite his boredom. And this was a safe topic, a shared subject that at once lent the air a sense of neutrality and ease.

"Yeah. You're welcome to borrow it if you like." Cloud nearly grinned when Reno's face lit up.

_Some things never change._

"Thanks, man. Geography is boring as. Why the hell do we need to know about topography or whatever anyway?" Reno's posture had slackened, and Cloud could tell it wasn't a ploy to put him at ease.

He answered easily enough. "Terrain and soil matter in battle. If you're gonna be using explosives or casting certain spells, you wanna be sure that the ground isn't gonna give way and you're not gonna start an avalanche or something." It didn't reveal too much, and if Reno asked, Cloud had read it in a book.

Reno just gave him a sideways glance that Cloud recognized as his teasing look – God knew he'd gotten that subtly amused expression enough times to become accustomed to it anyway. "Nerd."

Cloud couldn't help it this time. He rolled his eyes and gave the red-head a playful little half-smirk. "Better a nerd than a red-head."

"Oi!" Reno sputtered indignantly, and it was all Cloud could do to refrain from laughing. _This_ Reno he knew, this he could handle. Even if it was just light banter, Cloud relished the familiarity of it all. He enjoyed teasing Reno, the red-head was always good for a comeback. "Better a red-head than a blond any day! You know how many blond jokes I could tell you?"

Actually, Cloud did. In the future, Reno had told them all to him. Some of them were actually rather funny. But mostly he'd liked how the Turk had been so totally unafraid of First Tsurugi. Cloud respected Reno as a man who was smart and tough – a very useful ally, and someone who could always be counted on to lighten a situation.

Cloud just gave him a mock glare. He was surprised to find that he was actually already starting to relax in the red-head's company, but then again Reno had always been easy to get along with. Some of the others had found the Turk annoying, but to Cloud it was just Reno being Reno – and he liked the red-head's honest charm.

It helped that Reno had the looks to back it up.

_Fuck._

There he was again, thinking about Reno _that_ way. What the hell was wrong with him? Cloud had always only ever had eyes for one man, even when sating his desires with his usual partner it had been _him_ that Cloud had been imagining, only _him_ that Cloud saw whenever he felt hands on himself and a body moving over his.

He supposed it had been too long since he'd last found relief. And just because he'd only ever wanted one man didn't mean he was blind to others around him. Cloud could appreciate beauty, could enjoy the act itself even if his heart lay elsewhere. And Reno had always had a certain confident charm that was probably why he was so damned popular and good at his job.

If push came to shove and the red-head offered, Cloud might actually accept if only to have a brief respite. He knew that Reno would see it as it was anyway – just sex, nothing more.

_How very loyal you are._

Cloud scowled mentally. It didn't matter anyway. _He_ didn't even know Cloud existed, although maybe after today he did. But no matter what Cloud did, he'd never been good enough, would never be beautiful enough or special enough to be worthy of his attention. It didn't stop him from hoping though.

But Cloud was ever a pragmatist. He knew that sexual frustration was called that for a reason – and he couldn't afford to be anything less than 100% when it came to training. He was fifteen and hormonal, so he would have to find release somehow. And it wasn't cheating if he wasn't actually _in_ a relationship anyway. Besides, Reno seemed experienced enough that Cloud would probably have a good time.

_Goddammit._

Cloud really couldn't believe he was actually thinking about it. He could tell the red-head was looking at him weirdly now, but that ever-present smirk was still on Reno's face. Then Cloud just kicked himself mentally.

_As if anyone would actually be interested in a wimp like you._

Here Cloud had been thinking he was all that, when he'd forgotten that he was just a skinny little fifteen year old trying desperately to scrape through SOLDIER Entrance Exams. He wasn't Mr World Savior here, he was nowhere near the man he would become. What would anyone see in him anyway? Sure, Reno and he were about the same age, but Reno was popular and could have his pick of bed-mates. The only reason they were talking now was because Reno wanted information, nothing more.

"Earth to Cloud! Hello?" A hand waving in front of his face brought him out of his reverie, and he almost reached out and snapped it, refraining at the last second. As it was, they had already reached their barracks. Cloud just turned to glance at Reno.

"Sorry, was just thinking about classes," he offered lamely. He knew Reno wasn't buying it, but at least the red-head let it slide.

"You think too much, man." Again with that amused look. Then Reno stuck out his hand snottily. "Homework, please."

Cloud couldn't stop the brief chuckle that escaped him, and he could tell Reno was both surprised and pleased at the reaction. He turned and headed to his bunk, pulling out his notebook from the locker at the foot of his bed before straightening up and turning to hand it to Reno. He was surprised to see the other boy's eyes quickly flick up from where they had been focused on his behind. To Reno's credit, he didn't look in the least bit discomfited with being caught out like that, and Cloud was very proud of himself for not having the slightest flush of red on his cheeks.

He simply passed Reno the spiral bound book and settled onto his bed to read their Battle Comms textbook. The radios were easy enough to assemble, but Cloud was more interested in the information they _weren't _taught in class – such as how to jam frequencies, how to create their own tracking and surveillance devices, and how to decode enemy ciphers and such. He'd been spending too much time around Vincent.

At the thought of his friend, Cloud stilled. He knew that Vincent was in his coffin sleeping – and he longed to hightail it to Nibelheim to set him free. But he couldn't afford to miss out on training, and _really_, what would he say anyway? No, better to wait until the Nibelheim mission, if it ever came. Then at least Vincent would be there to explain things to Sephiroth and maybe keep him under control. Maybe they could even go see Lucrecia.

_One big happy family._

He would have snorted if he didn't think Reno would call him a weirdo and question him. A glance at the red-head showed him to be busy scribbling out answers based on Cloud's, so the blond just turned back to his textbook and decided to focus on his studies until lights out. The others would be back soon anyway, and they tended to make plenty of noise – how anyone ever got any studying done in the cadet barracks was beyond Cloud.

He was pleased that he was feeling tired though – it would ensure a good night's rest, and he wasn't concerned about not being able to wake up early. His body clock was too well-trained for that. His private training was wearying, and it left him aching and sore and exhausted for PT and classes, but at least he knew it would stand him in good stead when the time came.

He wondered why Zack had been watching him like that during sword training. Or maybe the dark-haired SOLDIER hadn't been watching him at all, had simply been passing by and happened to glance in on the proceedings. Yes, that must be it. Cloud couldn't remember how he'd first met Zack, or when they'd become friends. He supposed it probably had something to do with him getting into trouble and Zack getting him out of it. Maybe he should blow himself up with Materia or shoot himself in the foot during target practice – Zack would probably come running.

The corner of his lip lifted in mirth. Zack always did like running towards danger. The man was born to be SOLDIER.

Cloud really missed him.

-----

Friday came around and was met with a great deal of cheer, even at zero-six-thirty. Fridays meant pancakes for breakfast (or some sort of chewy flan that vaguely resembled pancakes) and classes that ended earlier than usual. Friday meant the weekend was _tomorrow_.

_TGIF!_

Reno always felt more cheerful on Fridays. It reminded him of drunken parties and friends and good food. So he was slightly more perky than usual as he headed to the bathroom to get ready, not surprised to find that Cloud's bunk was already empty and neatly turned down.

_Early bird, huh?_

Cloud's homework had been a welcome aid – the blond really was a nerd, but in a good way. Reno had actually understood what he was expected to do thanks to Strife's notes. So they had fallen into a sort of routine wherein Reno would copy Cloud's work at night before bed, and the blond would just read some textbook or other. _How_ the blue-eyed cadet even managed to finish all his written work before everyone else was beyond Reno, but he supposed it had something to do with the new attitude going on.

He headed to the mess hall feeling only slightly more human. As usual, Spiky was in the corner with his back against a wall, looking like he'd already had a workout and attempting to force himself to eat more than a few mouthfuls of the gruel before him.

Reno couldn't help thinking about pushing the blond against a wall and giving him a workout while forcing him to accept something else in his mouth.

_It's too early for this._

Then again, it _was_ called morning wood for a reason.

Scowling, Reno simply grabbed a tray and got in line. None of the other cadets noticed his foul mood, or no one cared. It was a widely accepted fact that mornings were for grunts and growls. Even after all these months in training, no one had managed to get used to the early rising – or maybe it was the annoying wake-up call that got them all riled up. Reno swore that if he ever saw a trumpet in his life he would do _nasty_ things to it.

_That sounded wrong._

It was official: Reno needed to get laid.

He slouched over to where Cloud was sitting, and as he neared the table the blond raised his head and his expression warmed slightly at the sight of the red-head. If Reno didn't know better, he'd think that Cloud was _laughing_ at him for looking so sleepy.

_Goddamned morning people._

Reno had never been one of those who enjoyed mornings. He was more of a night-person, preferring the darkness because that was when all manner of sin was acceptable, became a norm. And Reno really liked his vices – it was part of the reason why he wanted to be a Turk. Those guys were _bad_.

They ate in silence, Cloud never having been much of a talker and Reno too bleary to be coherent. After five cups of mud-water coffee, Reno was starting to feel much more awake, and he could've sworn that even his hair had become redder and perkier. The cadets trudged off to the field for PT, and Reno did his best to keep pace with Cloud, who had become quite the little Road Runner recently. The red-head was fast, no doubt about it, but he had never been able to keep his speed for long – down in the slums you generally just had to be quick enough to get to the next alley, not the next sector. But if the skinny little blond could kick everyone's ass on the track and the training mats, then Reno would be damned if he was left in the dust. He'd always been competitive by nature, always enjoyed beating others because it gave his ego a helluva rush.

It made him feel like a man.

The gunny was bellowing and blustering at them, but Reno ignored him. He had taken one glance at the sergeant and nearly pissed himself laughing – he couldn't forget the mental images of Payne in a bikini that he'd had to conjure up the quite regularly to deal with this sudden and not entirely unwanted attraction towards Cloud.

_Speaking of which…_

Cloud was only slightly ahead of Reno, the red-head practically dying with the effort of trying to keep up with the blond. As it was, Reno's position afforded him a pretty good view of a sweat-drenched shirt that clung to a lithe back, and a _very_ nice ass that moved with the tempting rhythm of Strife's lean legs. As far as distractions went, it was perfect. Out of the corner of his eye, Reno could see some of the other cadets checking Cloud out too – though far less subtly than he was. He supposed it really couldn't be helped – the blond had always been the prettiest of the lot, but had been far too immature and childish prior to this that any advance made would have been statutory rape in every sense of the word. Now though, Cloud was proving to be tough and smart and very, very mature – which made him prime fantasy material. Reno didn't doubt that more than a few of the other cadets dreamed of being able to take Cloud down and force him to bend to their will – among other things.

_Like hell they will_.

He was surprised at the surge of anger at the thought. He had always been a possessive sort, never having had very much to call his own. But he had never expected to feel this way over someone he'd never paid much attention to. It wasn't the sort of jealousy that arose over a lover – no, Reno would die before ever viewing sex as anything more than fucking. It was more of a protective streak, the kind that friends had for each other, the kind of desire to keep a companion from unfair harm.

Reno wanted to shoot himself.

_It's just coz he's pretty._

That sounded about right. Strife really was too damned delicate-looking for his own good - with that fair skin and slender body, the kid was just _begging_ for less-than-wholesome attention. And Reno was only too happy to oblige. He'd made up his mind after catching himself staring at the blond's perfect little mouth for the umpteenth time yesterday – tonight or this weekend, he would get Cloud drunk and get him in bed. Reno knew a place in the slums they could go to – it had been his pseudo-home for most of his life, and it was private enough with a clean bed. If not, then they could just fuck in the cadet bathrooms – though Reno would rather not. He liked making his partners scream. He wondered if Cloud was the loud type – it was usually the quiet ones who made the most noise. Whichever the case, Reno wasn't about to risk the other cadets helping themselves to dinner and a show – boys tended to act more like animals when grouped together for extended periods of time, especially when alcohol was involved.

_Softies._

Reno couldn't help the curl of derision at the memory of how weak all the other cadets were when it came to drinking. He supposed good little mummy's boys didn't actually get introduced to alcohol until much later in life, whereas _he'd_ been drinking since he was old enough to realize that that odd smell usually preceded some very warm, fuzzy feelings.

Cloud had never really been able to hold his liquor either, Reno remembered. The blond was a sullen, angry drunk – and usually one of the first to get all flushed and glassy-eyed. It would make his plans easier – but he really didn't want to deal with an emo little brat in bed. No, Reno wanted the cool, smart Cloud looking up at him as he hooked pale legs over his shoulders. It was a rush, Reno knew – the kind that came from primal domination, and so sue him but he was only human too.

_Soon._

Reno really didn't think he could wait for much longer. It had been almost three weeks since his last tryst, and what with the way Cloud was acting and all – the blond attracted attention even when he was just standing still, and it seemed that this new Cloud knew how to work his looks. It was almost as though the kid was asking for it – although Reno could see that it was the last thing the blond wanted. Strife was the type to avoid crowds and contact – but it was probably that fierce independence and assertiveness that drew even more people to him. It was already having an effect on the dynamics of the cadets – more and more boys were starting to group around Cloud, and the blond couldn't really go anywhere without people greeting him and trying to talk to him or be his sparring partner.

Reno supposed his association with Cloud had only helped give the blond a leg-up status-wise too.

_I'm so fly I can make ANYONE look good._

At last, the gunny gave the whistle, and the cadets stumbled to a stop gratefully. Reno himself was clutching his side and attempting to breathe through the pain – what kind of _dumbass_ had decided that cadets needed to run round and round right after eating? – but a glance at Cloud showed that the blond had simply started walking on the spot, looking tired but not very winded. It seemed the kid had stamina – and that would certainly come in handy, Reno's very dirty mind whispered.

Reno couldn't wait for the day to be over. He knew Cloud had caught him checking him out – and judging by the blond's reaction or lack thereof, the Nibelheim kid wasn't as innocent as he'd first appeared to be. Reno wondered where this sudden worldly wisdom had come from – it was yet another question to add to his ever-growing list. He wondered if getting Cloud drunk would get him his answers, but somehow he doubted it. No matter how intoxicated Cloud got, somehow Reno knew that the blond would retain enough mental awareness and control to keep his secrets. And Reno relished the challenge the blue-eyed cadet presented – it would certainly keep things from getting dull.

-----

Cloud could hardly keep the thrum of anticipation from showing. He knew from the way Reno was looking at him that sooner or later he was going to get his release. God knew he'd gotten that look enough times as a man to become very adept at understanding it. A part of him was feeling guilty over this apparent betrayal – but another part of him, the more rational, adult part, insisted that it was only human, only normal. He wasn't actually _in_ a relationship – it had always been more of a love-hate thing: Cloud loved the man, the man hated Cloud. And all this sexual tension was really not helping Cloud's concentration. So he'd resolved to just go with the flow and enjoy himself. He knew that all Reno wanted was a warm body under his anyway, so it wouldn't complicate matters at all. It would be _safe_.

After PT the cadets had headed to target practice – Fridays were lazy days for cadets, because _honestly_ how much energy could they expend holding up assault rifles and taking aim at mangled targets? Cloud had to remind himself to aim off-center – he'd had plenty of practice with firearms in his time, because necessity had sometimes required that he grab the nearest available weapon and strike. It was one of the reasons why SOLDIER training was so varied – if ever there came a time when they were out of bullets or lacking their usual weapon, SOLDIERS needed to be able to make do with whatever they could find.

He and Reno had been getting along quite well, to his surprise. He hadn't expected to find a sort of kindred spirit in the red-head, had always assumed rather melodramatically that he was the only one here who knew anything of suffering. Vincent had understood, true, that was one of the reasons why Cloud and he found solace in each other. But Vincent wasn't here, and Reno was. The other cadet was street-smart and had a biting sense of humor that this older Cloud could appreciate – it was probably why Tifa usually groaned whenever Cloud and Reno happened to be in Seventh Heaven at the same time.

He missed Tifa. She was the warmth that he had come to take for granted in his life – the last sweet haven he could turn to when things got bad. Cloud liked Seventh Heaven, even if he had never told Tifa that. It reminded him of home and his mother, sans the alcohol. Tifa's presence was obviously the contributing factor – she was always so strong, so understanding, so loving, that it made Cloud long to be a better man, a different man, so that he could give her everything she wanted. But he couldn't change who he truly was, and despite the heavy Zack influence and everything he'd been through he knew enough to know that his true nature was such that he could never fall in love with Tifa. His heart was elsewhere, and he was pretty sure everyone knew it.

He wondered if Aeris had anything to do with the gentle acceptance that his friends had for his feelings.

Target practice meandered along for three hours, and by the time the cadets trooped back to the mess hall for a "fish- 'n'- chip" lunch, the sun was high in the sky and Cloud really hoped he'd get some sort of tan. This too-pale skin never failed to rattle his nerves whenever he looked at himself. In the future, what with all his travels, he'd had more of a pinkish-golden hue to his skin, and that had suited him just fine. There was only one person in the world who suited pale, pristine skin, and that wasn't Cloud.

_He looked GOOD._

Cloud hadn't seen Sephiroth since that chance almost-encounter in the hallways, and a part of him was relieved. It wouldn't do to meet the General just yet – not when everything was still pretty raw for Cloud. He had adjusted to the time-travel business somewhat, and sometimes he wondered what had happened to the fifteen year old Cloud who'd gotten kicked out to make room for the old man who'd come tumbling in. He didn't know if he should ask Aeris about it – he'd probably just get a headache and an answer he didn't like.

Zack had been skulking around a lot though – and Cloud had come to realize that the First really WAS watching him. And several other cadets, Reno included. It seemed the man was up to something, clearly _wanted_ something, and Cloud was at a loss as to what. His fifteen year old self hadn't really paid much attention to the subtleties that went on around him, so Cloud had no memories to draw on. More than once Cloud had looked up in the middle of a class or a lecture only to meet assessing blue eyes. It was downright unnerving and annoying, because Cloud just really wanted to _talk_ to his almost-friend, and Zack was making things difficult with this different side of him.

_Zack is Zack_.

It wasn't that this was a different side to Zack, Cloud knew. It was just that he hadn't noticed before, had been too wrapped up in his own petty problems to pay attention to the SOLDIER. This time, though, Cloud was making sure to be extra observant, and he was surprised at how many things he'd missed out on the first time round. Such as the fact that Jeffries apparently _liked_ him. They'd had hand-to-hand training again on Wednesday, and the Staff Sergeant had had an almost _fond_ look in his eyes when Cloud had met his gaze. He'd puzzled over it for awhile, before coming to the conclusion that the sergeant was simply proud of his pupil. The explanation didn't sit quite right, but there was no way Cloud could find out the truth short of marching up to the man and straight-out _asking_ him. Cloud was far too quiet a person to do _that_.

He and Reno had been joined at lunch by Brian and some of the other boys, and inwardly Cloud was more than a little amused by his sudden popularity. He was practically a rock-star among the cadets, and a more whiny side of him complained at the never-ending attention directed his way. His other, more quiet side quite calmly accepted this turn of events – and was actually a little happy. Cloud had never really been part of a group before AVALANCHE, and that had been a moderately dysfunctional posse at best. This time though, Cloud was surrounded by compatriots, and he was honestly quite pleased with himself for becoming someone worth knowing. In the future, he had never really appreciated the attention bestowed on him because he'd felt unworthy, undeserving. But now, he'd earned it somewhat – by being mature (alright, so that was mostly Aeris' doing), and tougher. Never mind that it was because it was an older Cloud in a young body – at the end of the day, he was Cloud and he had _friends_.

After lunch was the obstacle course – and Cloud honestly found it fun. It was a little exhilarating, crawling through mud and under barbed wires, scaling over slippery walls and scraping his knees a little. It reminded Cloud of the joys of being a boy, being _young_, and even though he had dirt and sand in places that shouldn't even _be_ able to accumulate foreign matter, he was enjoying himself thoroughly and it showed. He was grinning somewhat, as close to a grin as he'd ever allowed himself, and it had apparently infected Reno and the others. There was more rowdy banter than Cloud ever remembered there being in training, and Cloud was glad that he had been able to brighten things up for others.

They'd had a quick one hour rappelling class, and Cloud made sure to pay attention because falling out of a chopper or an air-ship was downright _painful_. Cid had kicked him off the Highwind once, "for shits and giggles," the scoundrel had said, and it was only Cloud's cat-like reflexes that had enabled him to catch himself in mid-air and flip over to land on his feet. The impact had jarred though, and his teeth had hurt for a day after that. He'd made sure to steal all of Cid's cigarettes and booze and flush them down the toilet the minute he'd gotten back on the ship.

There was a mad scramble for the showers after that, and Cloud was suddenly grateful for his fan-base – they practically rolled out the red carpet for him, and as a result Cloud was one of the first to jump into a stall and get clean. They had some time before dinner, and some of the cadets headed out to prepare for the night. Cloud had never been in the Supply Crew, had always been an after-thought in the drinking parties that took place in the barracks, but this time a few of his bunk-mates actually asked him what he'd prefer they get. Cadets got a pitiful monthly wage, less than what the toilet-cleaners made in a week, but when they pooled their resources it was enough to get them plenty of liquor – if they went to the right shops. Somehow every cadet knew where to go – it was practically ESP among the boys. That, and among the trainees were some kids whose parents either owned liquor stores or who had older siblings that sent them beer and whisky in care-packages.

Cloud's mother had never once allowed her son to go near a drop of alcohol – and in his older days Cloud had wondered if it was because she saw liquor as the reason for his birth. The colder, more cynical side of him thought that she shielded him from intoxication in order to prevent him from ever having bastards – the gentler side of Cloud knew that she was just being an over-protective mother.

He thought about getting some studying done, but decided that he was already far ahead of the others anyway, so there was really no need to actually _work_ hard book-wise, he'd just refresh his memory closer to the exams. He wondered what he'd do to pass the time, until Reno pulled out a deck of cards and dragged him into a poker game. Cloud had spent enough time in Gold Saucer's VIP rooms to become a very adept poker player – he was loathe to call himself a gambler – and he knew that it was more a game of statistics and people than anything. Vincent had explained that, in poker, you played the people around you, not the hand you were dealt. It had taken Cloud awhile to understand, and Vincent had almost bankrupted Cloud and Cid and Barret and Reeve before Cloud got the message.

_You can take the man out of the Turks, but you'll never take the Turk out of the man._

Apparently playing poker was part of Turk training. Go figure.

They played for peanuts at first, until Reno suggested that the winner got first dibs at the bottle of sake that one of the other boys had been sent by a sister. _That_ had heated things up considerably. Cloud wasn't surprised at Reno's skill – the red-head was _born_ to be a Turk – but he could tell that he was surprising everyone with his ability. Keeping a poker-face was easy for him, too easy, but it was more his competency at reading and playing others that shocked the rest of the cadets.

_Not bad for a Nibel-brat._

He'd never really considered his poker-playing skills valuable or even remotely important – but now he was starting to realize that not everything had to be perfected for the sake of world peace. Sometimes it was just good to kick back and relax and _have fun_.

He wondered what Sephiroth did to unwind, then decided he really didn't want to think about it when an image of the General - tie pulled slightly to hang loosely-knotted below aristocratic collarbones, sleeves rolled up slightly along toned arms, shirt un-tucked and partly unbuttoned to reveal a perfectly toned chest as the silver-haired man leaned indolently back in a leather chair – assaulted him and made him show a tell. The others jumped all over it, but Reno, being the sneaky bastard that he was, simply raised an eyebrow at Cloud and gave him a knowing smirk that for some reason made something tighten in Cloud's belly.

_Pretty sure that was a lot lower than your belly, Blondie._

Where the hell was the alcohol?

At length the dinner bell sounded, and they put the cards aside to head to the mess hall – Reno and Cloud were pretty much the only ones still in the game anyway. The others were flat out. Dinner was actually recognizable – Fridays meant pizza-ish dinners, and even though the crust was too thick and chewy, the pepperoni was remarkably like proper pepperoni, and Cloud found that _this_ meal was easy enough to finish. He and Reno snagged some chips from the vending machines on the way back to the bunks - Cloud knew he'd need some excuse to stop filling himself with alcohol - and they started their game again in earnest.

Reno won. Cloud blamed his loss on the fact that the red-head was rather distracting, and the fact that he couldn't seem to stop imagining that it was a certain silver-haired man smirking at him like that.

The minute the red-head took his winning drink of sake, the chaos started in earnest. Beer cans were hastily opened with more cracks and fizzes than a Mako-dump, and Cloud himself got caught up in a skulling contest.

Reno was enjoying himself a little too much, in Cloud's opinion.

He attempted to pace himself, but the red-head seemed dead-set on getting Cloud intoxicated, and the future Turk had apparently recruited several other cadets to his cause. Drink after drink was shoved into Cloud's hands, and before he knew it he was being suckered into a game of strip-poker.

Cloud was _definitely_ drunk.

He quite liked the feeling though. It had been a long time coming – and it was pleasant in its own way. He felt like he was floating, like a fuzzy woolen blanket had been pulled over his mind, and dimly he was aware that he couldn't hear very clearly. The ever-watchful part of his mind instantly kicked into overdrive, and the sudden rush of adrenaline stomped out any traces of intoxication in an instant, much to Cloud's disappointment. He had been _enjoying_ himself.

He glanced at Reno, and wasn't really surprised to find the red-head watching him closely. Reno looked a little taken aback – though whether it was because Cloud had managed to sober up so quickly or because Cloud had yet to shed a single article of clothing in the game, Cloud wasn't sure. But at the same time, Cloud recognized that look on Reno's face – he was _pleased_.

Was it because Reno had been expecting this new Cloud to be able to handle his liquor? Or was it because – and Cloud thought that this was rather wishful thinking - he hadn't wanted any of the other cadets to see Cloud strip?

That knowing look was back though, and Cloud allowed himself to meet it head-on. The alcohol in his system was making him bolder than he usually was, and for once Cloud didn't care. He wasn't in the mood for subtleties. He wanted relief, and Reno was going to give it to him.

_Impatient, much? Get a grip before you do something stupid. Be a MAN, dammit._

Cloud turned back to the game. Already Brian and several other cadets were missing their shirts and socks – but some of them had taken the precaution of wearing _five_ pairs of socks – cheeky bastards – and it was only Reno, Cloud, and a kid from Corel who were still fully clothed.

_Not for long_.

His mind was only trying to be helpful, Cloud assumed. But it was making things _hard_, in every sense of the word.

Cloud decided to just enjoy himself. He was rather liking the feeling of being drunk, even though he knew that he'd have to control himself in case he blurted out something stupid or revealing. Thankfully, the others were well on their way to getting pissed, so they didn't really notice that Cloud had started sipping at his drinks slowly, sometimes not even swallowing.

Reno could drink anyone under the table.

Cid had asked Vincent about his surprising liquor tolerance before. The blunt pilot had never been out-drunk by anyone before meeting Cloud and Vincent. Everyone chalked up Cloud's ability to the Mako, and even though Vincent was part-Chaos, he at least didn't have an uncanny glow in his eyes. Vincent had said that Turks needed to be good with alcohol – that they all built up a tolerance for drugs and liquor while still in training. It wouldn't do if they were somehow high or intoxicated, because a Turk was always on guard. It made sense – however bizarre the reason. Did Turks _seriously_ sit around drowning themselves in alcohol in the name of Training?

Well, if they played poker as part of their preparation, it wasn't much of a jump.

Cloud had to admit, Turk training sounded a damn sight cooler and more fun than SOLDIER's. But perhaps that was why the Turks, no matter how skilled, could never actually take on SOLDIER Firsts like Zack. Sephiroth no one could beat – no one but the future Cloud.

_Goddammit_.

He just _had_ to go and think depressing thoughts again, didn't he? Well, there was only one thing to do about it – Cloud skulled his beer and grabbed another.

_Cheers, suckers._

-----

It was almost midnight, and already most of the bunk was out cold. Several had puked long and loud in the barracks – but not on the floor, thank God – the cadets had fashioned little 'puke-bins' prior to the start of the drinking, and the makeshift vomit-brigade was doing a pretty good job of ensuring that the smells and sights of excessive indulgence were secured away from everyone else.

Reno himself was slightly tipsy – he'd drunk more than everyone else. Cloud had sobered up a little at first – which had surprised Reno a little – but then he'd gotten a wild, depressed look in his eyes and decided to drown himself in alcohol. The blond was still no where near the puking or passing out stage though – and Reno was glad. It would certainly make things easier if Cloud was lucid.

_It's time._

He and Cloud had been exchanging rather heated looks the entire night – and one or two of the others had caught on. Considering everyone else had been practically _blind_, Reno hadn't felt the need to be discreet. Besides, the few who figured it out were the type to understand anyway – Reno had fucked them before, and usually he'd be in the showers with them now enjoying himself, if it wasn't for the fact that Cloud was too damned good-looking to resist.

Jared gave Reno a knowing look, and said something to Ralph about going for a walk – yeah, right – and then the two of them just smirked at Reno and Cloud before leaving the bunks. Ray had elected to finish a bottle of whisky on his own – and pretty much waved Reno and Cloud on from his bunk in the middle of the snoring, sotted cadets.

Which left the red-head trying to figure out how best to get Cloud to head to the bathrooms.

He didn't need to, in the end, and he was rather surprised at how sharp and discreet Cloud was, even this obviously intoxicated. The blond simply glanced at him, polished off the rest of his drink, and said that he was going to wash up.

_Damn. He knows he's bad._

If Reno didn't know that Cloud was rather drunk, he'd have thought that the slight sway of the blond's hips was meant to tempt him. It was still a delicious sight though, and Reno lounged on his bed for a while longer, just to give the illusion that what was going to happen next wasn't actually going to happen.

At length, he gulped down the rest of his whisky and headed out, getting a quick "Have fun" from Ray. He smirked at the brunette, and if it wasn't for the fact that this was going to be his first time with Cloud, he might have even invited the other cadet to join them. It was the perfect setting for a porn video.

_Cadets Gone Wild._

He would have laughed had anticipation not seized him. God knew he'd been waiting for this for a _long_ time – several days of frustration was _ghastly_ long – and it was _Cloud_. Possibly the best looking cadet around – Reno excluded, of course.

He reached the bathrooms, and saw that Cloud was leaning over the sink washing his face. The sight of the blond's moist neck, with droplets of water making their way down his nape and into the back of his shirt, was almost enough to make Reno groan. As it was, he simply closed the distance between them and positioned himself behind Cloud, hands framing the blond's hips roughly as he leaned in and gave the side of Cloud's neck a lick.

Cloud didn't jump, didn't seem startled or uneasy or nervous or any of the things Reno had half-expected him to be. Instead, he turned around and reached up – both hands fisting in Reno's hair and pulling him down to meet in a brutal kiss that was more tongue and teeth and alcohol-stained breath than anything else.

_Good._

It seemed Cloud held no illusions of romance. There would be no pretences, no false niceties between them. It was just sex, just the way Reno liked it.

Cloud broke the kiss when the need for air became too great, and Reno knew that his eyes were probably as glazed and dilated and lust-filled as the blond's. Sometime during the kiss the red-head had walked them backwards into a shower stall right at the end of the row, furthest from the doorway, and Reno was glad for his experience in the bathrooms. It meant less time wasted.

He spun them around, shoved Cloud into the wall, and pushed his tongue into the blond's mouth forcefully. Reno had always been rough, always been domineering, and it seemed Cloud didn't mind being pushed around in this respect. Which was good, because at least Reno wouldn't have to worry about fighting for dominance.

Reno's hands had long ago delved under the blond's shirt, one holding the shorter cadet tightly against his body, the other reaching up to toy with the blond's nipples. Cloud gasped slightly into the kiss, and Reno couldn't help the smirk. He knew Cloud felt it, knew it in the slight stiffening of the smaller boy's body, but then Cloud just brought his hands between them and started undoing Reno's belt.

_Nasty._

Two could play this game. Reno pulled back far enough to yank Cloud's shirt over his head, then a thought struck him and he twisted the cotton tee, grabbing Cloud's hands and binding them with a speed and ease that spoke of familiarity with bondage. For his part, Cloud looked as though he really liked having his arms tied behind his back – he let loose a low moan that made Reno's skin burn and his length practically _vibrate_ with anticipation.

_Should've done this sooner._

Who knew the blond would be this hot? Cloud was practically porn-star material as he ground his hips against Reno's and sucked on the red-head's tongue. Reno made quick work of the rest of Cloud's clothes, tossing the pants over the door of the stall, barely registering that he had actually _locked_ it sometime ago, and throwing the blond's boxers somewhere in the same direction. He stepped back to survey his handiwork and nearly came on the spot. Cloud was leaning against the wall of the stall, eyes closed, skin flushed, and lips bruised and red and parted wantonly, nipples teased into painful attention and erection standing proud.

Reno didn't need to wonder why the blond was keeping his eyes closed. He knew without a doubt just whom the blond was seeing behind his eyelids, and he was fine with it. Less hassle for him that way. He stripped off his clothes and hung them over the stall as well, then reached out and turned the water on. The initial shock of the cold water crashing over them was enough to make Cloud and Reno groan with the pleasure of the sudden change in temperature, and as the water warmed up they found themselves locked in another heated, bruising kiss while their erections ground against each others' almost painfully.

Somewhere in the haze of pleasure, Reno vaguely remembered enough to reach out and pump some of the cheap Shinra-issued soap onto his hands. Then he reached around and teased the crack of Cloud's ass. The blond shoved himself back against the fingers impatiently, and Reno obliged. He thrust two fingers hard into Cloud, delighting in the way the blond almost screamed into his mouth. It seemed Cloud liked it rough as well.

In the back of his mind, Reno wondered how an innocent little blond from a backwater mountain town had suddenly morphed into this worldly, knowing siren. He shoved the thought aside, resolving to think about it _later_, and then just focused on the feeling of the tight, almost virginal heat around his fingers.

Surely Cloud wasn't a _virgin?_ Reno didn't usually enjoy being someone's first – if only for the annoying stigma that usually accompanied it. It was a rare soul that didn't place too much weight on their first – that or a very drunk soul who could barely remember the proceedings, in Reno's experience. The red-head doubted that Cloud really was a virgin though – the way he was behaving was far too _wise_ – so he figured it had just been awhile since Cloud had done this.

He certainly wasn't going to stop _now_.

He added another finger, probing, smirking into the endless kiss when he found what he was looking for. Cloud was practically _whimpering_, making desperate little mewling noises in the back of his throat that Reno had to admit were fucking hot. It almost sounded like a very familiar name, but the noise of the shower thundering down on them and the blood singing in his veins drowned it out. He didn't spend too long preparing the blond; he could tell that Cloud wanted it rough and hard. Satisfied that the other was slick enough, he spun Cloud around and bent him over, liking how very vulnerable the blond looked in this pose; head hanging down, blond spikes wet and flattened against a graceful neck and closed eyes, hands clenched almost painfully behind his back as the makeshift bonds held them in place, cheeks held apart as Reno positioned himself, and then Cloud jerked up and nearly howled as Reno slammed himself in without hesitation. He paused only momentarily to savor the feeling of being buried to the hilt, before he started up a brutal, punishing pace that made Cloud pant and groan and moan – and alright, _that_ definitely sounded like a certain someone's name – and Reno grabbed himself a nice fistful of wet blond hair, pulling hard and making Cloud arch his body almost painfully into Reno's thrusts.

_Fuck_.

This was _good_. The blond was tight and hot, and the noises he was making were taking Reno very close to the edge very quickly. Not to mention the fact that Cloud - tough, smart, cool Cloud - was tied up and at Reno's mercy here in the showers in the dead of the night.

Though Reno didn't doubt that Cloud could break free anytime he wanted to. But it was the _principle_ of the thing.

They were approaching climax quickly, and Reno was determined to make Cloud lose his control first. He knew there was no way the blond, experienced though he seemed to be, could have had as much practice as him. Adjusting his position slightly, he tightened the fist in the blond's hair – Cloud was going to have a sore head tomorrow – and gripped the slender hip with his other hand hard enough to leave bruises. Cloud's slender neck was bared to Reno this way, and the red-head couldn't resist, biting down hard on the tempting juncture between neck and shoulder – any marks here would be hidden by their shirts anyway – and relishing the stunned shriek that the action ripped from Cloud's lips.

"Seph-!"

Cloud bit down quickly on his lip, but it was done. Reno had heard it clear as day, even through the sounds of the shower, and he knew that it was only inebriation that had prevented the other cadets from learning this delightful little morsel.

Grinning to himself, he increased his pace, knowing he was hitting Cloud's prostate each time by the blond's muffled cries, and he pulled Cloud's head back further – _damn_, the blond was _limber_ – and in this position he bit and nibbled on the smaller cadet's collarbone until Cloud was trembling and about to reach his limit. Then, just because Reno was a bastard, he pulled out completely and released Cloud, stepping away. The blond opened his eyes to turn and glare at the red-head accusingly, stumbling slightly as the sudden loss of support – and even if Cloud hadn't let _his_ name slip earlier, the look in his eyes when he remembered it was Reno who'd been filling him and not _someone else_ would have clued Reno in anyway.

Reno was smirking, even though his length throbbed painfully, needing release desperately. He had Cloud at his most vulnerable, he knew exactly how the blue-eyed boy liked it, and he knew without a doubt that the blond fantasized about the General. He looked at Cloud challengingly, then looked down at himself. The blond got the message. Cloud knelt before Reno, the shower spraying the both of them ridiculously clean, and took the red-headed cadet's length into his mouth in one smooth motion. Reno couldn't help himself - he closed his eyes, leaned back against the door, fisted his hands in Cloud's abused hair, and rode the blond's mouth hard.

Cloud was _definitely_ not a virgin, if the way he gave head was any indication.

Heck, it seemed Cloud was used to being treated like this, used to sucking his partner off despite the musky taste that would no doubt have lingered despite the shower. So, Cloud _liked_ being practically man-handled and pushed around – why? Reno knew enough about himself and the act to know that it was usually people who always had to be in control, who always had to be perfect and who hated themselves for not managing to _be_ perfect, who wanted this dominance over themselves in private. And Reno also knew that Cloud was trusting him to be discreet about this, to keep it to himself – had Reno been anyone else he would have been quite touched with this show of faith; but Reno would keep his silence for an entirely different reason – this was _his_ hard-earned knowledge, pun absolutely intended, and he wouldn't let anyone else in on it unless there was something for him to gain from the exchange. Somehow, Reno knew that Cloud was aware of that, and had accepted it the minute he told Reno he was going to the bathroom. It made things very easy for Reno, and he was quite grateful for that. He hadn't had many partners as thoughtful as Cloud, and he knew that he and the blond would be doing this regularly from now on – because the blond was hot, and because he was cool.

He was nearing the edge, and Reno looked down, nearly exploding at the sight. Cloud's eyes were closed – big surprise – his cheeks were hollowed as he sucked, and his nose was almost buried in the tuft of red hair at the base of Reno's length. Cloud was _good_ – Reno was by no means small, and for the blond to be able to take him almost this completely indicated no small amount of experience. Somehow the knowledge that Cloud's mouth was not virginal pushed Reno closer to the brink, and he knew he was going to lose control soon if he didn't do something.

He yanked the blond's head away, turning him so that he was kneeling on the ground, face pushed into the wet tiles as water swirled dangerously close to his nostrils, and then Reno was nudging Cloud's legs open. He pushed harder at the blond's head – a demand the paler cadet understood – then moved one hand to fist Cloud's length, as his other hand gripped tight enough that Reno was sure Cloud was going to have a bald spot if they kept this up. Then he rammed himself hard into Cloud, and took him painfully even as his hand stroked the blond's erection firmly in time with his thrusts. It didn't take long – apparently giving head turned the blond on as much as it had Reno to receive it – and soon enough Cloud was screaming soundlessly into the shower water rushing around the tiles that his face was practically buried in, his smaller body shaking and trembling as it clenched around Reno sporadically and almost painfully. Reno followed after a few more hard thrusts, making sure to push himself deeper than ever as he came, biting the blond's shoulder to prevent him from crying out anyone's name.

They stayed like that for awhile, muscles delightfully sore and shaking, the warm water almost massaging despite the force of the shower, trying to get their breathing and heartbeats under control before attempting to move. Reno pulled out of Cloud slowly, and he didn't miss the slight wince that the blond tried to hide.

_Yeah, you're gonna be SORE._

That knowledge filled Reno with a smug satisfaction, and he couldn't resist rubbing it in – reaching out and shoving three fingers into Cloud so suddenly that the blond cried out hoarsely. Reno pushed his digits into that pale, abused ass until his knuckles were brushing against Cloud's cheeks – then wriggled them around just to annoy the blond.

He was content to sit there on the floor, as the shower crashed down on them, just watching the movement of his fingers in Cloud and the way the blond couldn't help moving in time to the casual toying of slim digits in his behind.

It seemed Cloud enjoyed his pleasures of the flesh. He still hadn't opened his eyes though. Not that Reno minded – he didn't care if Cloud was imagining that it was the General who had done all that to him, who had bit so hard Cloud was almost bleeding from the shoulder. THIS was one of the reasons why he preferred plain, no-holds-barred, no-strings-attached sex. It left both parties free to think of whomever they wanted, free to give their affections to anyone else.

Reaching up, Reno turned off the shower and looked down. Cloud still hadn't tried to rise or open his eyes, and a part of Reno was surprised at how readily the blond was accepting whatever was done to him. Cloud had struck Reno as the type to enjoy being in control, the kind who was used to commanding others, but now the red-head knew that that was just the public-face of Cloud. The blond was picky with partners – at least, Reno liked to think he was – but that was so that he could just let loose.

Somehow that just made Reno's body remind him of the joys of being young and hormonal.

Cloud didn't react as Reno guided his head almost gently up, didn't need to open his eyes to know what to do with the semi-flaccid flesh prodding at his lips, even as he kept thrusting back against Reno's probing fingers.

This time Cloud didn't let anything slip – he enjoyed himself, true, but he never once uttered a name. It might have had something to do with the fact that his mouth was alternately occupied with cock and fingers, or the fact that he was constantly being slammed into hard between his legs with whatever had just left his mouth – regardless, Cloud kept himself quiet, only giving slight, breathy moans that nevertheless sounded loud and clear to Reno in the silence of the bathroom. It was just the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh and pants and moans and grunts that went on late into the night, and by the time the two cadets stumbled into bed, Cloud's arms were numb and bruised, and his knees were scraped and bleeding, one side of his face felt raw, his head ached, and he couldn't really feel anything below his waist. All in all, it had been good, and Cloud didn't regret a second of it. He didn't know how he was going to do any of his private training in the morning, and he wasn't going to think about it. Sleep claimed him quickly, and he could only be glad that Reno had been thoughtful enough to clean him thoroughly before helping him dress and supporting him down the hallway to their bunks.

-----

Several buildings away, in a luxurious penthouse, Sephiroth jerked awake – expecting to find himself holding a smaller body against himself. Mildly disoriented, he looked around, finding it was only an hour since he'd fallen asleep. He couldn't shake the image of spiky blond hair and baby blue eyes – he got his fair share of such dreams, but they were few and far between. Mostly he dreamed of green needles and white coats and glass walls. It would have been a welcome change, had it not been about someone so obviously younger than himself. He'd had some dreams about Zack – the First was attractive after all – but he had never acted on them. He wasn't the type to make the first move anyway.

The first time he'd woken up hard and aching in the labs had been…interesting.

Sighing slightly, he decided that since he was awake, he might as well do something about his hard-on. Turning to face his bed partner, he woke him with strong hands roving over a lithe body. As the blond man turned to face him, Sephiroth couldn't help but feel that the golden locks weren't spiky enough, the eyes weren't blue enough, the skin not delicate enough. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind ruthlessly. Might as well enjoy the moment. In the morning, Zack would come to collect his latest bed-warmer. Zack had been the one to introduce them after all – and Sephiroth had long ago figured out that it was all part of some grand plan that involved his happiness and a long-term relationship. It never worked – Sephiroth had never been emotionally involved with any of the people who spent time in his bed. Zack always looked disappointed whenever he came over in the morning and saw Sephiroth standing in his kitchen sipping at a cup of coffee, but the dark-haired First always kept his silence and handled the morning-after effects. Zack was rather adept at dealing with the waterworks – and a part of Sephiroth wondered how the man managed to remain so popular even with the trail of broken hearts left in his wake. No matter. Sephiroth appreciated Zack's thoughtfulness. It certainly made things easier for him – no sobbing, disillusioned people to comfort.

He took his time, trying to drive a pretty face and a hastily smothered smirk out of his mind. He closed his eyes and saw all too clearly, but opening his eyes only brought on a keen sense of loss so he kept them closed. He made sure not to say anything when he came.

Sated, he lay back down, and drifted off to sleep trying to forget sky-blue eyes and a youthful face flushed with pleasure.

-----

The weekend had been hedonistic, to say the least. Cloud had woken up early Saturday morning, sore and aching in places he didn't even _know_ could hurt. But it had been worth it – just for the blanketing sense of nothingness that always accompanied such explosive pleasure. When Reno had met him at breakfast with weekend passes for the both of them, he'd known that this weekend was going to be…eventful, to say the least.

Jared had been smirking at him, and Cloud had simply raised an eyebrow at him and looked pointedly at Ralph. No need to wonder what _those_ two had been up to, if the bruises on their arms were any indication. A part of him, the shy Nibelheim part, was aghast at how loose and libertine they all were here in Midgar. It wasn't like in Gold Saucer – what happened in Gold Saucer stayed in Gold Saucer – but it was more like everyone here had pretty much accepted that when you threw a bunch of guys, adolescent and adult, together for a long time, they were bound to get jiggy with it. True, Cloud wasn't even sixteen yet – but then again, neither were some of the other cadets. He didn't know how old Reno was – doubted that even Reno himself knew his birthday – but they were about the same age, physically and mentally. Cloud had never been a stickler for propriety anyway – running around the world with AVALANCHE had resulted in some downright scandalous situations. Besides, he _felt_ old – he was older than even Sephiroth here. So whether or not he was legal didn't matter to him – heck, this was _Shinra_ they were at anyway.

He and Reno had headed off right after breakfast, Reno leading the way through the slums to an apartment complex that Cloud had never actually noticed before. It wasn't like he'd spent much time under the plate before Meteor anyway, and after that everything had changed. It seemed this was where Reno had lived before going to training – if the reactions of those they passed on the stairs and in the hallways were any indication. They reached a small unit eventually, it was clean, if a little sparse, but it had a bed and it seemed that was all that mattered. Cloud had simply walked over to it and begun to strip, and then Reno had been behind him, pushing him into the mattress, and that was the beginning of their weekend.

When Reno had gotten tired, he'd simply used a nearby something on Cloud.

_No wonder he likes the Nightstick_.

Cloud was sore, trembling, but he liked it, he wanted it. There was no peace, the void in his chest wasn't being filled in the slightest, but this feeling of utter _blankness_ was vastly preferable to the desperation and loneliness that ate at him constantly. He didn't care if he came across as a nympho or whatever it was – he just wanted to _forget_, and Reno was very good at helping him do that. The red-head was insatiable, and Cloud realized why the future Reno was such a skirt-chaser – Mako could turn monks into sex-maniacs, and if Reno was already THIS horny naturally, his behavior later on was perfectly understandable.

When Cloud had tried to muffle his cries, Reno had simply flipped him over and whispered into his ear.

"Scream for the General if you want – no one's gonna care."

Then Reno had just shoved Cloud's head into the mattress, and he blamed the sudden sharp spike of pain on the fact that his nose felt like it was going to break.

_Bastard._

He'd screamed though – but he doubted anyone but Reno heard it.

They kept going until late Sunday morning, when Reno had left the room and returned with a bowl of water and a towel and proceeded to help clean Cloud almost gently. The blond was grateful for that – he didn't have the strength to sit up, let alone stop his limbs from shaking like Barret doing the boogie.

At length, when they were both decent enough, Reno had led the way to some hole-in-the-wall place that he swore had the best hoagies in town. Cloud had to admit it was good, and they drank so much bottled water that the proprietor raised both eyebrows at them, but Cloud just ignored him. Walking about Wall Market had made Cloud claustrophobic – he was used to people parting the way for him, and First Tsurugi probably had something to do with it. He'd almost gotten his pockets picked several times, and would have lost his gil had he not taken the precaution of hiding his money within his clothes prior to leaving the barracks. It seemed no one was even attempting to rob Reno, and Cloud wondered at that. It was obvious the red-head was Somebody around here, but Cloud had never known much about Reno's past and this was news to him. He'd always assumed Reno had just been handpicked by the Turks from somewhere – now he was actually getting a back-story to the future operative and it was something he was quite proud of. He'd been absolutely oblivious before – now, he was finding out just how much he'd missed out on.

He considered going to see Aeris, then decided not to. Not when he was so debauched and downright decadent. Aeris' church was a sanctuary, a holy place of worship even if no one actually went to mass anymore – and Cloud couldn't bear to bring this latest sin of his to her door. She would understand, of course she would, but he didn't want to see that look in her eyes that always made him feel so goddamned inadequate and _human_.

For her, he would only allow himself to be invincible.

Reno brought him to an alleyway strewn with litter and filth, and Cloud couldn't help wrinkling his nose at the stench. The red-head just looked amused, and walked ahead of him, eventually coming to a stop by a crack in the graffiti wide enough to admit a person of medium build. Cloud supposed he should feel a little wary, be a little more suspicious of Reno, but the other cadet had already seen him at his most exposed, had already _done_ things to him that only one other person had ever done with Cloud's permission, so the blond really didn't see the point in suddenly throwing his walls up. He followed at a small distance though, and he was glad for his habit of memorizing everything and anything around him – it would make it much easier to escape, if he had to.

At length they reached a sort of room, and Reno was warmly greeted by the burly man sitting on an upturned crate. It seemed Reno was a regular, and had helped with supplies before.

"'Bout time you came to see me, Red!" The man laughed, hugging Reno almost affectionately. Reno just grinned at him before jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where Cloud was standing in the pseudo-doorway.

"Mike, Cloud. He's another cadet." Cloud didn't miss the way Mike's eyes wandered over him appreciatively, but he kept his cool, almost challenging stare trained on the other man and eventually Mike gave him a nod before turning back to Reno.

"Alright, whaddya want?" Reno just grinned almost cheekily back at him, though with a heavy dose of his usual smarminess.

"Got a couple orders for ya, Mikey. Thought you'd be happy 'bout that."

Orders? Cloud's eyebrow rose, but he didn't say anything. Was Mike a dealer? Drugs were contraband in the barracks – the one thing no cadet or SOLDIER or infantryman was allowed. It was apparently the only thing Sephiroth flat-out refused to suffer in his troops.

Mike raised an eyebrow, turning to look at Cloud.

"He's aight." Reno assured him, before turning to shoot Cloud a warning glance. Cloud just stared back impassively. He didn't honestly care if Reno was dealing, as long as _he_ wasn't caught with any merchandise it was none of his business.

Mike nodded, and he drew back a tattered piece of cloth hanging on the wall behind him – Cloud had just assumed it was there for decoration, a wannabe-tapestry or something – and the dark-skinned man led the way into another room. Cloud's eyes widened. It was armory heaven. Almost every weapon imaginable lined the shelves, and there were crates and crates that were _begging_ to be plundered. There was a heavy majority of firearms, but Cloud wasn't surprised. Guns were certainly easier to use, all you had to have were eyes that could focus and a relatively steady arm – but nothing said who was in charge like a nice, fat blade.

So Reno was dealing weapons to the cadets then? It explained why the other boy seemed to know everything about everyone, and for a slum kid he certainly never appeared to be short of money.

While Reno and Mike were talking supply and bargaining like fish monger and housewife, Cloud just took the opportunity to wander around the makeshift warehouse. His hands itched to reach out and _touch_, but he had learned that with people like Mike, hardened, cunning, shrewd businessmen in their own right, it was best to feign complete disinterest. Cloud had enough saved up for a small blade, and he was glad he hadn't squandered all his money away on alcohol or porn like some of the other cadets. He wondered what to get; knowing it would probably come at a pretty steep margin, considering it was black-market, but at the same time he kinda hoped that Reno would step in and cut him a deal.

His eyes lighted on a butterfly knife tossed almost casually among a heap of daggers and sheaths and sais, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and taking a hold of it. The handle was smooth, it looked a lot like ivory but Cloud doubted it really was, and it was discreet enough to be hidden on his person easily. He weighed it in his palm for a moment, finding it reassuring somehow, then flipped it open. It looked sharp enough, the swedge angled perfectly to make the balisong appear double-edged. It had an additional tang pin, and he liked the way it fit in his hand, liked the weight distribution that made it so much easier to handle and manipulate – Cloud tended to do some fancy stunts with blades, and he needed his props perfect.

"It's got an IKBS." Cloud jerked his head up, turning slightly to meet Mike's calculating gaze. "That's an Ikoma-"

"I know what it is," Cloud said coldly. He was _blond,_ not _stupid_. "Ikoma-Korth Bearing System. A high-end ball-bearing system that maximizes smoothness. I can tell this balisong has it."

Mike and Reno looked impressed, Reno with just the slightest trace of sharp suspicion in his gaze. But Cloud didn't care – he wasn't about to look like an idiot in front of anyone, not when it came to blades. When he'd been younger, all he'd known about various daggers and swords was simply that the pointy end went into the other guy, but he'd come a long way since then. Whenever he visited Wutai, the weapons makers would hound him incessantly for an evaluation of their shuriken and katanas.

Cloud was a bad, bad man when he had something sharp in his hands.

He was about to open his mouth and haggle for it, when Reno cut in.

"That one's free with everything else." The red-head seemed to have expected Mike's exaggerated reaction, and they started their bartering again. Cloud just stood there, nonplussed. Why the hell was Reno being so _nice_ to him? He knew it definitely wasn't because this was _payment_ for being a good little boy in bed, because Reno would know that Cloud wasn't the type to take kindly to allusions of prostitution. Reno himself wasn't the type to take it kindly – and Cloud could only imagine what the red-head had been through to make him that way. In the slums, prostitution was practically the norm – but Cloud had seen the way Reno bristled when looked at the wrong way.

_Something to do with his mother?_

Cloud wasn't an idiot. He knew enough to know that Reno's mother was more than likely a floozy, and he assumed Reno's aversion to being viewed as the same sort was probably due to hazing in his past.

_What's he playing at?_

Cloud really hated being beholden to anyone. With AVALANCHE it had taken Tifa awhile to get him to understand that _friends_ didn't keep track of favors done or received, it was just something they did for one another. It had taken awhile to actually sink in – even though Cloud had never viewed Tifa as the manipulative, calculating sort. He had just escaped from Hojo, and Zack was dead. Even if he hadn't remembered any of it at first, the memory of being used, being seen as a tool, being looked at with those sharp, greedy eyes, it had all left a very deep impression on him.

_Scared for life, scarred for life._

And Cloud knew enough about Reno to know that he didn't give something for nothing.

He supposed he should cut in and reject Reno's kindness, but not only was it saving him a significant sum of money, refusing Reno now would make him lose face in front of Mike - and Cloud knew how things worked in the slums. It was about reputation and respect, the threat of might more than the actual, constant proof of it. Word spread fast, and it seemed that Reno had spent most of his life building up a reputation here in the slums – even if the red-head was a Turk through and through, Cloud was loathe to shame him and make an enemy of a fellow cadet. Reno would definitely come in handy in future, and not just with respect to 'other physical pursuits'.

He kept his mouth shut and watched the proceedings with interest. Cloud had always liked watching people interact, he found them fascinating because reactions and responses were always so varied and entertaining – he supposed he was only making excuses for his antisocial behavior, but he knew that he only gave people headaches when he spoke to them anyway. At least that was what Barret and Cid said.

After almost ten more minutes of heated haggling, Mike threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. It seemed Reno was victorious.

They left after awhile, Cloud receiving a sheath for his butterfly knife as well. Reno had a nondescript paper bag tucked under his arm, and it looked for all the world as though all that the red-head was carrying was a simple bag of books. He was good, Cloud gave him that. No wonder the Turks snapped him up.

They reached the barracks with some time to spare before dinner, and Reno disappeared after giving Cloud a light slap on the shoulder.

No need to wonder what the red-head was up to.

Cloud simply headed to his bunk, the balisong already securely ensconced within his shirt. He would have to switch its hiding place regularly – cadet training often resulted in his shirt getting all wet and sticking to his torso – but Cloud preferred having his knives either on his arms or around his waist. It was easier to reach, especially with hands tied behind your back.

_Speaking of which…_

He looked down at his arms. He looked _abused_. This was going to take some very creative explaining or some very deadly glares.

Brian greeted him as usual – just as he had the previous week, and this time Cloud had an answer for him. They chatted awhile about Battle Tactics class, Brian asking to borrow Cloud's homework as well, which made Cloud's lips twitch slightly, and then Ray jumped in and asked for Cloud's Materia Theory work, and the blond couldn't hold back the amused lift to his mouth.

_I'm so preppy it's actually funny._

It seemed even in this world he would be The Man That Everyone Turned To For Help. Except this time it wasn't at all life-threatening – alright, who was he kidding, it was pretty damned serious because SOLDIER was involved – and it was actually rather funny. Cloud had always found solace in books, had become used to viewing the world and learning life through the written word because he couldn't understand the people around him and the way they treated him. He had been a bit of a nerd, he realized, but apparently now he wasn't being seen as a geek or whatever – he was just the cool, smart guy who always had the answers.

It felt _good_.

At dinner Cloud and Reno were joined by most of their bunk, excepting Matt's friends. Cloud was still waiting for the whiplash of _that_ fiasco, and he knew they were just biding their time, waiting for him to grow lax and over-confident in his new role. Well, they would have to wait a _very_ long time. Cloud had been called Mr Paranoid, Mr Obsessive-Compulsive, Mr Has-A-Stick-Up-His-Ass-And-Really-Needs-To-Chill-The-Fuck-Out more times than he could remember. He wasn't about to let a bunch of beach-going brats get the better of him.

_My, what a snobby little jackass YOU'RE turning out to be_.

It was true, Cloud realized. He was developing a holier-than-thou attitude, and it wasn't like him at all. Knowing he was good was one thing, gloating over it was simply not his style.

_I've been spending too much time with Reno. _

Cloud would either have to humble himself, or someone else would do it for him - and he knew he wasn't going to like it if it was the latter case.

It was easy to get off his high horse when he reminded himself of what was at stake, of what he'd failed to do before. And even though Cloud was in _pain_ because Reno had been rough and rather brutal, he would wake up early tomorrow and get his private training in. It was approaching the end of the month, and he hadn't forgotten his goals. He would make it or break it – simple as that.

He thought about setting himself another goal – get to know Zack before the month's end – but thought the better of it. If he approached Zack, it would just be a case of cadet worshipping First Class, and Cloud would die before giving Zack any reason to see him as that. So he would have to wait for the First to approach him, and he railed at his lack of control. He didn't like leaving the ball in someone else's court, liked taking charge and doing it _his_ way because then at least he'd know what was going on. The experiences with Hojo and Sephiroth had instilled in him a strong desire to be aware and fully-informed so that no one could ever use him for their own ends again. Cloud hesitated at that – it seemed Zack himself - wonderful, caring, generous Zack - was up to something, _wanted_ something, and Cloud wondered if that had been the reason why Zack had approached him before. It couldn't be, not with what Cloud knew of the man, not with everything that Zack had sacrificed for and given to Cloud. No, Zack was probably just looking out for the cadets and, _maybe_, figuring out a way to get to know them.

That was probably it. _That_ sounded more like the Zack Fair that Cloud knew.

After dinner Reno had simply snatched Cloud's homework from the other boys and copied everything, and Cloud just amused himself with watching some of the other cadets attempt to peek at his work while dealing with their hangovers. Weekends in the barracks meant it was permanently beer-o-clock, and hair of the dog generally turned into another drink-fest.

When the "lights out" bellow came, Cloud welcomed it, lying back and trying not to wince at the pain that flared all over his body. It had been a welcome diversion, a meaningless, emotionless act of physical comfort, and Cloud wasn't going to beat himself up over it. A part of him felt bad – because although he wasn't technically a virgin, this body had first partaken of sex with Reno and not _him_. But it didn't matter – _he_ had never once shown such interest in Cloud, and the blond actually preferred that it was Reno who was the first and not a twisted scientist. In the future Cloud hadn't really cared about the fact that his partner wasn't who he really wanted – _he_ was dead and gone, by Cloud's hand no less, and his body had been defiled already anyway.

_Quit thinking about it and SLEEP._

Cloud waited until everyone else was deep in slumber first though. No matter how exhausted he was, he wouldn't allow himself to fall asleep while there was still someone awake nearby. It didn't take long, but it was enough time for his mind to wander to an aristocratic face and a powerfully but leanly muscled body. Even with his eyes closed, Cloud had been only too aware of the fact that it was Reno in him, and his attempts to convince himself otherwise had felt more like a mockery of _him_ than anything else.

Cloud was a glutton for punishment.

Finally, the breathings around him deepened and evened out, and Cloud allowed himself to drift off and dream of piercing green eyes on him as pale, corded arms held him close.

-----

Zack hadn't been able to find the little blond anywhere. It was the weekend, and from what he remembered of his cadet days it usually meant that the trainees would be lying in bed recovering from Friday night's alcohol binge and preparing themselves for Saturday's. But the tough little chocobo was nowhere to be found, and neither was the lanky, street-smart red-head that had taken to being by the blond's side. Zack frowned slightly at that. Were those two..?

He doubted it. It was probably just a case of two cadets shacking up and getting it on while in training together – as Zack himself had done on numerous occasions with his fellow trainees. Besides, who _wouldn't_ find the General attractive? Zack knew that no matter how good the red-head was in bed, the little blond wouldn't be able to resist Sephiroth. Even Zack wasn't immune to the man's magnetism, and it was only the fact that they were friends and Zack really didn't want to prove his friend right about people that was stopping the First from making a move. It was hard though, especially when he spent so much time around Sephiroth. The man was Sex On Legs, and Zack was only human.

It didn't help that he knew Sephiroth so well that the more he found out about his superior officer the harder it was not to be attracted to him. Zack had done his own digging, had figured out that Seph had grown up in the labs, viewed as an experiment, destined to become The General. It called out to the softer side of him, made him want to just _hold_ Sephiroth and teach him what it meant to be happy. But Zack was wise enough to know that that wouldn't work – not between them. Sephiroth had come to regard Zack as his friend, had come to respect Zack as someone who was always there for him but who would never jump him, and Zack wasn't about to jeopardize that for all the sexual gratification in the world.

It didn't stop him from picking out long-haired, green-eyed partners for himself though.

Eventually Zack threw in the towel. It appeared Spiky wasn't going to be found anywhere on base, and neither was that slum kid that he was almost always with. Zack wandered over to the office and found out about the weekend passes by flirting with the clerk and nonchalantly flipping through the books. He didn't know how he was feeling about the fact that the little blond was obviously doing the bada-bing-bada-boom with someone else – it was selfish of him to expect that a teenaged boy would hold out for someone as out of reach as the General. A part of Zack felt something akin to respect for the kid – for not being so stupidly worshipping of Sephiroth (who was, at the moment at least, _quite_ out of the blond's league) that he would deny himself his fun. And Zack had never been able to deny himself sex anyway – it was the best part of being human, being a man, being a SOLDIER and surrounded by ridiculously large numbers of Bad Boys – Zack considered himself very fortunate indeed.

As it was, Saturday morning had found him in Seph's _massive_ apartment dealing with another pretender to the General's heart. It was never pretty, and it was only because Zack was The Man's Best Friend that he did this again and again.

_Another one bites the dust_.

Zack had thought this latest one would do it too – the Lieutenant was pretty, shorter than Sephiroth (it wasn't very hard to be shorter than the General), and effeminate enough to rouse _some_ feelings of chivalry. But it seemed that Zack's Madam duties would continue, at least for awhile more. He really hoped he'd get it right next time – he had a feeling the Strife kid was perfect for the role, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to approach the kid just yet, if only because he was still trying to convince himself that he wasn't _only_ interested in getting the cadet to be The One.

Now if only the little chocobo would just blow himself up with Materia or shoot himself in the foot so that Zack had a reason to rush to his rescue…

Sighing, Zack decided to quit haunting the cadet barracks and see to his own needs. It was pretty tempting to take up the offers some of the cadets were practically _throwing_ at him, but it would be an abuse of authority, or it might be seen as favoritism, and Zack didn't want to get tangled up in _that_ mess again. The last time had been the last time. Sephiroth had practically skewered Zack with the Masamune for causing him so much paperwork when the shit hit the fan, and the dark-haired First still got nightmares over the unholy gleam in the General's eyes from that time. No, Zack had learned his lesson, and he was sticking with fellow SOLDIERS. He'd already been through all of them, as he always did when the latest batch of cadets was approaching SOLDIER Entrance Exams, but he supposed he could deal with a repeat performance.

He wondered when he'd gotten so obsessed with Sephiroth's happiness that he'd forgotten about his own. Zack had always wanted a long-term relationship, had always longed for someone to come home to. But shacking up with another SOLDIER wouldn't do – the threat of death or an undercover mission would always be hanging over their heads, and Zack wasn't about to marry another warrior. He preferred taking care of others, and he had always wanted children of his own. He knew he'd make a great dad.

Still, he was pretty young, so he decided he'd just enjoy himself while his bachelorhood lasted. It certainly kept things interesting.

On his way back to the SOLDIER apartments, he spotted a spiky blond head and vivid red hair bobbing along towards the cadet barracks. He squinted slightly, the afternoon sun reflecting off the numerous glass windows nearby and making the glare hurt his eyes. Yes, it was Strife and Reno-no-last-name. Blondie looked like he was _tottering_. That was a lovely word, in Zack's opinion. Tottering, tottering, _tottering_.

Zack recognized that funny way of walking though. Someone had had a _very_ good time. He scowled slightly, then chided himself. If the kid was getting it on already, even though he wasn't sixteen yet, then it would just make things easier when the time came. Instantly he wanted to kick himself. Just where did _he_ get off viewing cadets as nothing more than leg-spreaders for Sephiroth anyway? It was downright shameful and disgusting, and Zack wasn't going to think like that anymore.

He turned and walked off quickly towards his apartment, taking out his cell-phone and flipping it open, perusing his very long contact list.

_Eenie, meenie, miney, moe…_

Tonight was going to be a good night.

*****

A/N (1): The "somebody was gonna get hurt real bad" line in Cloud's part (where he encounters Hojo and Sephiroth in the hallway) is a Russell Peters' line – the "Somebody's gonna get hurt real bad" joke that he likes to tell.

A/N (2): "Pointy end went into the other guy" – a variation of the line from Zorro. (Antonio Banderas to Anthony Hopkins: "Pointy end goes into the other guy.")

A/N (3): "Scared for life, scarred for life" – a quote from the book 'So Much To Tell You' by John Marsden.

A/N(4): The "Cloud was a bad, bad man when he had something sharp in his hands" line alludes to the scene in Gone in 60 Seconds where Nicolas Cage runs his hands along his leather jacket and says "I am a _bad_ man."

A/N (5): This chapter is LONG – almost 24,000 words. I was thinking of cutting out the rather citrusy scene, but oh well. For those of you who aren't fans of RenoCloud, those two AREN'T in a relationship and this story IS a SephCloud fic. Cloud is simply finding some relief in Reno, and vice versa. It was not my intention to make Cloud some across as a nymphomaniac or anything of the sort – he isn't a saint.


	4. Chapter 4

**Almost Karma**

**By BluWhispers**

**Chapter 4**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.

**Warnings:** Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

**A/N (1): **Thank you to **SubtleInspiration** for pointing out my grammatical error in using the feminine 'blonde' instead of the masculine 'blond'. I honestly had no idea – and I'm grateful that my mistake was pointed out so graciously. I've edited the previous chapters to take this into account, and I've added some minor phrases and notes.

**A/N (2):** Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers! I was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who enjoy this fic. A big thank you to those who mentioned the little things – such as **luminousSpark**'s mention of the italicized phrases and **firedraygon** for bringing up the 'almost' theme and same thoughts in characters. And thank you to my cousin **Rikouchan** for filling me in on Crisis Core.

**A/N (3):** **Twilight's Aura** – this is another long chapter just because your comment about worshipping had me grinning non-stop.

*****

Rufus had been…surprised, to say the least, when Reno had returned with news of Cloud's latest adventure. Tseng had instantly started chiding the red-head for drinking on the job, but Reno had been adamant, and had sworn on the Nightstick that Valentine could back him up. If there was one person whom Tseng absolutely deferred to, it was the ex-Turk. So it seemed Cloud really _had_ been sent back in time.

Rufus wondered what that meant for him. He wasn't a fool – he knew his father hadn't been a saint, had been the cause of so much unpleasantness and suffering it was a wonder no one was still out for Shinra blood. Rufus, for his part, had been succeeding in re-building a somewhat decent reputation for Shinra, and now Cloud was going back to change the course of history.

Cloud always _could_ be counted on to make a wonderful mess of things.

Rufus wasn't an idiot – he knew how people saw him, knew he was low on anyone's list. He didn't honestly care. He had his money - which therefore gave him some semblance of power - and he had the Turks to protect him. Cloud had always appeared apathetic towards Rufus and his reputation anyway, had never seemed to care much for the blond Shinra – but then again, the swordsman practically _mainlined_ indifference.

Sephiroth was the only one who could get Cloud's knickers in a twist.

He adjusted his cufflinks, if only to give himself something to do whilst helo-ing to Edge. Rufus was on his way to pay a surprise visit to Reeve – he'd learned it was best to just walk right into the WRO President's office. Whenever Rufus bothered to make an appointment – an _appointment_ – to see the man who used to work for_ him_ - AVALANCHE always just _happened_ to be there to 'talk to Reeve'. It probably had something to do with that bungling little animated stuffed toy. Rufus didn't care if Barret was there – the ex-terrorist was still relatively obtuse when it came to Rufus' subtle machinations – _how_ the man had amassed such a fortune when he was so coarse and crude was beyond Rufus - but if Valentine was there, Rufus wouldn't be able to lie to save his life. The ex-Turk had an uncanny way of seeing right though him, seeing right through anyone, and Rufus had often wondered if it was because Tseng kept the immortal in the loop more than was strictly necessary. The blond didn't doubt Tseng's loyalty, not after everything, but he knew that Tseng held a great deal of respect for Valentine, and such almost-reverence was dangerous.

Rufus wanted his answers, and, if he didn't like them, he would need to figure out how to prevent this. He knew that there was no way that Cetra girl would communicate with him, let alone be _nice_ to him – even though she was apparently a total angel to everyone – which left Rufus with only one other option – Reeve Tuesti. If there was anyone in the world smart enough to figure out this time-space continuum and work out a way of stopping it, it would be the President of WRO. There weren't any mad scientists left that Rufus could turn to anyway.

He'd had some time to think about his options since Reno had returned stinking of alcohol – had waited a full week while the Turks went out to gather intel. He supposed that, since Strife obviously didn't see him as a threat, his position was relatively secure. If Strife even went so far as to get Rufus' father out of the picture, so much the better. Rufus held little love for the man who'd sired him, knew that he had been brought into the world solely to ensure that Shinra Company stayed in the hands of a Shinra. So he didn't much care if daddy died sooner rather than later – it just meant that he could sit on the throne quicker. He knew that he was a different man now – in the past, he would never have trusted anyone the way he trusted the Turks presently – but he could count on his younger self to know what to do to ensure he remained in power. Rufus had never been an idiot, had been raised ruthless and trained to control and manipulate others, and he knew that even without all this experience, his younger self would recognize Strife as someone dangerous – and would therefore not risk antagonizing the man and making an enemy of him.

Rufus had never had a death wish.

_Unlike some people._

He wondered if Cloud's apathy was perhaps due in part to jealousy – after all, Rufus had not only been born into a life of privilege and wealth and perfection, but he had known the General when he'd been sane, had spoken to him plenty of times. If it wasn't for the fact that neither Rufus nor Sephiroth ever made the first move, they probably would have warmed each others' beds. Rufus knew he was good-looking, knew he was dashing, and Sephiroth had ever had an eye for beauty.

He wished he'd taken the opportunity before. There was no doubt about it, Sephiroth was the best-looking thing that had ever breathed the Planet's polluted air – and now he was dead and gone and Rufus had never had a chance to experience the General's prowess for himself.

No matter – he would get Reeve to tell him what was going on, what was likely to happen. And if he couldn't change anything, then at least he would ensure that he remained aware of what was going on somehow. Rufus had seen Reno looking a little disoriented, and Reno himself appeared to be confusing certain things – no matter how drunk the red-head got he could always be counted on to be a Turk – so this _had_ to be because of Cloud. He hadn't known that Reno and Cloud had been cadets together, had never really bothered to ask anyway, but from the way Reno was behaving, it seemed Cloud's actions were having a ripple effect already, and Rufus would be damned before he allowed himself to be written off.

He was Shinra, and he would never be anything else.

-----

Aeris wondered when Cloud was going to come and visit her. Sunday had come and gone, and curiosity had led her to speak to the Lifestream to enquire about Cloud. She'd known he hadn't been in any danger, would have been alerted somehow had the blond gotten into trouble, so she had been a little surprised to hear Cloud's thoughts. She supposed it was rather rude of her – prying into others' minds as and when she liked, but she really wanted answers, and Cloud could always be counted on to give anything but.

For her, he would only allow himself to be invincible.

It was all a little too much, she mused. First Zack and then Cloud, always treating her like a glass doll. She supposed it couldn't be helped – Cloud had always treated women with a kind of reverence that was probably the reason why he had never looked at a female _that_ way. To him, they were creatures of beauty, symbols of dreams and warmth and everything that was good in his life, and he would never allow himself to sully them somehow. She really hadn't been surprised to learn of Cloud's true love – it certainly wouldn't have been a _woman_.

And Zack…Aeris supposed she had loved him as every damsel loved a knight. She had been young then, much more innocent, and meeting a dashing, charming young SOLDIER could certainly make even a worldlier woman swoon. Zack too had treated Aeris as his little glass doll, as though she was a precious porcelain vase that held all his better dreams and deeds, and he had never shown her anything but kindness and generosity and sweet, sweet love. It wounded that Zack hadn't trusted Aeris to love him if she knew his true nature. As a girl, she had been blind to it – blind to everything but his brilliant smile and strong embrace. His disappearance had hurt, but the truth had hurt more. She had thought, at first, that he had simply grown weary of her, a silly little girl from the slums who was afraid of the sky – and then when she had found out that he hadn't left her of his own free will, that he had been caged and experimented on and then hunted and finally _massacred_, she had wished that he really _had_ just run off with some other woman.

Zack was alive here - alive and strong and powerful. A part of Aeris longed to see him again, because even though physically she was a teenager, she hoped that her maturity would shine through and allow Zack to be himself around her – darkness and all. She remembered that the first time around, Zack had come crashing through her roof like a falling star _before_ he'd been a First Class. Now it seemed he already was, but they still hadn't met yet. She wondered at that, but her queries to the other Ancients had resulted in the same answer repeated so many different ways that Aeris had been quite tempted to pull a Sephiroth on them.

Sending Cloud back had changed a lot of things.

She had to admit, she was a little lonely. Everyone had always assumed that, since she was a Cetra, she had the Lifestream to keep her company. Some of them no doubt thought that all she needed to be happy were her flowers. That might have been true before, when she'd been a young girl, but this Aeris was older, wiser, and she had gotten so used to always keeping herself around Cloud that this physical separation was rather painful. She longed for Seventh Heaven, for Tifa's warmth and strength, for Barret's gruff affection. Tifa had been slightly unfriendly in the beginning, when they'd first met, but such was the dark-haired pugilist's way that eventually she came to treat Aeris as the sister she'd never had. Aeris missed that – it was hard being alone when she knew what it was like to have friends, _true_ friends. Her death had hurt them all, and she was sorry for that – but most of all she was sorry that Cloud felt it was his fault somehow.

Sighing, she knelt in the flower bed, deciding that there were enough blooms to take to Wall Market to sell, just to give herself something to do – church full of flowers, pocket full of money and all that. She supposed Cloud would come and see her in his own time, he certainly hadn't _forgotten_ her. And as for Zack…well, all she could do was pray. She knew they would meet somehow, because Zack had his own role to play in everything, but she was hoping it would be sooner rather than later. She missed him – no longer could she just speak to him and have him hold her as they had in the Lifestream – here, he was alive, and he didn't know her. Yet.

_Patience is a virtue._

-----

Sephiroth had been making steady progress through his paperwork since coming into work at 6:30AM. Mondays tended to see documents multiply like rabbits – which was odd because no one but him worked during the weekends, so Sephiroth had never managed to figure out why he always had a mountain of paperwork on his desk every Monday morning.

Then he heard someone bounding down the hallway from the elevator. He glanced at the ornate Wutaian hand-made clock on the wall. It was 9AM.

_Something's wrong._

Zack had never gotten to work anytime before 11AM.

The door burst open and a black tornado swept into the room.

"Good morning, Seph!"

He didn't allow his eyebrow to twitch. Sephiroth had come to enjoy the quiet of mornings, the calm that came from Zack's absence. Now Zack was here on time, and his beloved solitude had been thrown out the window by The Black Porcupine.

Zack threw himself into his favorite leather chair and thunked his booted feet onto Sephiroth's table, never mind that there were papers and files neatly covering the entire expanse of solid teak.

Sephiroth kept himself focused on his work. Maybe if he ignored Zack the man would go harass someone else.

_Don't get your hopes up._

"So, have you heard anything about Cloud?"

Sephiroth was tempted to raise an eyebrow at Zack's informal use of Strife's first name, but such was Zack's way he supposed. He made no reply.

"I just wish I could _talk_ to him, you know?" Zack shifted, leaning forward slightly to loosely clasp his hands on his knees. Sephiroth could tell the other man was agitated, but he wasn't going to be nice to the First just because he'd actually come into work on time for once.

"Maybe then I could find out how he's managing to improve so quickly, you know? I dunno, I just wanna know what happened!" Zack huffed, pulling his feet of the table and crossing an ankle over a knee, his leg bouncing slightly. Sephiroth kept his attention on the document in front of him – it was a report on recent Genesis clone activity. He resolutely ignored the pang of _something_ in his chest and focused on pretending to be reading while Zack blathered on.

_Red-heads._

"But if I just went up and spoke to the kid then, you know, everyone's gonna say it's favoritism or whatever and…well…remember what happened _last_ time." Zack switched positions, placing his other leg on top and bouncing even more. Yes, Sephiroth remembered very well what had happened last time – he'd been stuck in his office for three days dealing with report after report on the matter.

"So…I dunno! How can I go up to the kid without making it, you know, inappropriate or whatever? I mean, why should anyone _care_ whether or not I'm coming on to the kid? It's not like no one else has hooked up with cadets! I mean, it's _my_ life!" Zack was making the leather chair vibrate. Sephiroth hoped he wouldn't break it. He didn't like having to requisition new equipment just because Zack was hyperactive and had ADD.

"I just…I dunno what to do, Seph." A frustrated hand through his hair. Zack was really worked up about this, Sephiroth noted with mild surprise. He'd known Zack, being as irrepressibly curious as he was, would want to know what was going on, but this went far beyond the interest of a SOLDIER in a cadet who was displaying skills above his level.

_Is he…?_

It wasn't his business. And it seemed Zack was aware enough not to be as…indiscreet as before.

"I've been kinda hoping the kid would just get hurt during training, you know? Just so I have an excuse to go up to him – I mean, it's not _that_ out of the ordinary if a First Class checks up on an injured cadet. Plus with my rank and all, it's OK, isn't it?" Zack was looking at him beseechingly, Sephiroth could tell from that tone of voice. He resolutely ignored the dark-haired SOLDIER.

_Keep going…_

"But he's too good to injure himself, and I don't want him getting beaten by the other cadets, not that they'd try anything, I don't think. He IS good. But I dunno if I could just walk up to him and ask him about where he learned all that. Even if I AM Brigadier General or whatever the hell my rank is now."

_Almost there…_

There was a brief moment of silence that Sephiroth had come to associate with the proverbial light bulb going on over Zack's head.

"I could just go observe training, right? And maybe I could talk to him a little or something then. I mean, if anyone asks, I'm just checking out future SOLDIERs – it's OK, right? I'm just doing my job – looking out for my men, scouting for new talents, yada yada yada."

_Boom._

Sephiroth knew better than to give Zack any indication that he agreed. If he did, then Zack would either get suspicious or think that it was OK to whine at his superior officer about cadets. It wasn't that it was unusual, and Zack was right. As Brigadier General he had every right to visit cadets and involve himself in their progress. Sephiroth just wished Zack could have figured it out on his own without needing the General's permission or a pat on the head or whatever it was that Zack had wanted from the monologue.

"OK! I'm off! See ya, Seph!" With that, the First bounded off the leather chair – it gave a rather pained squeak, Sephiroth really hoped it wouldn't fall apart – and rushed out of the room, slamming the door rather excitedly behind him. The minute it closed on Zack, Sephiroth allowed himself a small smirk.

_Too easy._

-----

Jeffries had decided to have a free-sparring session. Cloud couldn't remember much of his days as a cadet, but he couldn't forget the pain of such classes. He had cringed slightly when the sergeant had announced it, and then he'd wanted to cringe again when Reno insisted on being partnered with him.

Reno fought dirty.

As it was, the mats had turned into a field of chaos – fists were flying, curses were sung, bodies were tumbling - and it was more like a bar-room brawl than a martial arts lesson. It reminded Cloud of the times when Cid and Barret would get drunk and start trouble with other patrons just because they figured that Cloud wouldn't let anything happen to them. Most of the time, Cloud would just pick his drink up and head off to the room Tifa always kept ready for him. Vincent would bring a bottle of whisky up with him and the two of them would sit there, sipping their drinks and listening to the sounds of the fight going on down below. Sometimes they would make bets on how soon Tifa would step in – she usually held out until a table broke. Then all they would hear were the cries of pain from all the men being thrown out onto the street, followed by curses colorful enough to make even Cid blush.

The woman had a temper.

Reno was a good opponent when it came to hand-to-hand combat. The red-head was quick on his feet, and had a knack for targeting parts of the body that _really_ hurt when hit. Cloud could only be glad that he had his experiences and higher pain threshold to back him – he'd be a sniveling, aching wreck otherwise. It didn't help that he was still sore from the weekend (Reno wasn't exactly _small_), and in his private training he had pushed himself hard to reach his goals. But he counted himself lucky that Reno wasn't yet fully-trained or genetically-enhanced the way the Turks had to be – plus, he had to learn to take hits sooner or later. SOLDIERs were thrown into the 'bull-ring' several times a week – just to condition them to being beaten, because it wouldn't do for them to start bawling every time they got bonked on the head. And now Cloud had taken enough hits from Reno to consider himself a Very Bad Man. He'd landed his own fair share of blows on the red-head, but to Reno's credit he had brushed them off as though they were nothing but loving swats. Either that or the future Turk figured that the less weakness he showed, the more demoralized Cloud would be. Had it been the younger Cloud, Reno's ploy would have worked, but this older Cloud _knew_ he'd hit some very sensitive areas, and he knew enough of his strength and the human body to know that Reno _had_ to be in pain. Plus, he had the advantage of experience, stamina, and reflexes that, although nowhere near what they would become, were still quick enough here to protect him from the worst of blows and land some decent hits of his own.

It helped that Cloud himself had no qualms about fighting dirty. 'Below the belt' only worked on the Sports Channel – in real life, it was kill or be killed. And Cloud's warrior instincts were in high form today, because sparring against Reno brought back memories and because Reno was proving to be a pretty good opponent – it was enough to make Cloud allow his sub-conscious to take over, allow his instincts to guide him as they usually did when he was actually _in_ the moment. He wasn't too concerned about controlling himself – Reno could take whatever he threw at him – and this younger body wasn't genetically-enhanced yet.

Cloud was _loving_ it.

He hadn't had a good workout in awhile – in the future, what with all his speed and skills, there hadn't been anyone alive who could make him work for a victory. Sometimes he'd had to resort to ditching First Tsurugi and just charging at Vincent with nothing but his gloved hands and booted feet to be at least forced to put some effort into a spar. Now though, he was having to put his all into the fight, and it made him feel more whole, more himself, and more like a man than he had in a long time. Cloud wasn't the war-mongering sort, he'd fought for world peace after all, but he also relished a challenge, and too often he was simply disappointed with the level of ability in his opponents.

He'd been toying with the idea of getting Cid and Barret and Yuffie and Tifa and Vincent to gang up on him in a fight, but he knew they'd either hold back (as in Tifa's case), be too old (as in Barret's case), be winded too quickly (as in Cid's case), be too interested in stealing his Materia (as in Yuffie's case) or just be too offended (as in Vincent's case). Well, at least now he didn't have to do that. Without Hojo's experiments, Cloud would actually have to _work_ at becoming the best, and he was quite looking forward to it – if only because it had been a long time since he'd had to give his all in a fight. He knew he couldn't afford to fail, HAD to get stronger and faster, but at least his skill, when it finally came, would be all his own, would be entirely the result of his blood, sweat, and tears – never mind that his experience and maturity were the effects of time-traveling.

_Can't have EVERYTHING_.

Reno suddenly dropped low, and Cloud knew what was coming next, had had this particular move pulled on himself enough times to know that it would hurt for days afterward if he didn't do something quickly. He threw himself to the left, rolling to his feet despite the way his body – especially his back – protested, and, keeping himself in a low crouch, lashed out at Reno's face. The red-head dodged, still crouched low on the ground, then suddenly his left leg was flying through the air towards Cloud's ribs, and Cloud threw himself to the ground, twisting in mid-air in such a way that his entire body _screamed_, bringing his legs up and aiming for Reno's torso while his arms pushed off the ground in an awkward back-hand-spring. Nothing could have prepared Reno for this move, which was yet another one that Cloud had stolen off Tifa – the heels of Cloud's boots connected with Reno's sternum and the red-head went tumbling backwards with a pained grunt. Instantly Cloud launched himself at the downed cadet, only to have to bring his arms up quickly to block Reno's fist. The red-head was the type to fight back no matter how much pain he was in, to react instinctively with a fist to the face, and Cloud was suddenly reminded of why Reno had been such a pain in the ass before the Turk had decided to help him out with saving the world. Not that he wasn't a pain in the ass now – but that was for an entirely different reason.

Reno was _good_.

Cloud brought his knee up, going for Reno's groin, and the red-head quickly rolled over so that he was lying partly face-first on the ground, then brought his leg around quickly in a wide arc to sweep Cloud's feet out from under him. Cloud simply flipped himself over Reno, twisting just before landing and targeting a low side-kick at the other boy, who had by this time gotten to his feet and was aiming a punch at Cloud's nose.

Reno dodged the kick, but Cloud didn't let up, tucking his head in, hunching his shoulders slightly to protect the back of his neck from the taller cadet, while spinning around and using his right elbow to strike Reno's ribs. The red-head blocked it, so Cloud just used his momentum to carry him around, his left hand going for Reno's neck in a finger-knife thrust. The other cadet lived up to his street-rat reputation – he threw himself forward, one foot going up behind him to remove any chances of Cloud ever celebrating Father's Day. Cloud just cart-wheeled away.

They stood there, panting heavily, chests heaving from the exertion, and each willing the other to just _roll over and_ _die_ so that they could stop and get a rest, when suddenly someone was clapping. Startled, they looked around, and Cloud's heart nearly flew out of his mouth.

Zack was applauding.

_Oh, FUCK._

Cloud definitely didn't remember this.

It seemed that sometime during his and Reno's spar, all the other cadets had finished theirs, and everyone was gathered around the mats to watch Cloud and Reno duke it out. Jared was holding a wet towel to his eye, Ray had a split lip, and almost every other cadet sported at least one new bruise or bleeding nose. Jeffries just looked like a proud papa.

Cloud met Reno's gaze – the red-head looked as stunned as Cloud felt.

"_Damn_, you two are _good_!" Zack said cheerfully, advancing across the mats towards the two flabbergasted cadets who quickly straightened and turned to salute him. The First chuckled, waving off their formality with his usual amused humility, and held out his hand to Cloud.

"Good job." Cloud took the hand on auto-pilot, simply because his mother had ingrained good manners in him from a young age, and suddenly he was very grateful for her etiquette lessons. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Zack's, and his mind had become a heavy-metal concert. So many thoughts were screaming, shrieking, vying for attention - he couldn't believe that Zack was _here_, that Zack was _shaking his hand_, that Zack was _looking straight at him_, that Zack was _smiling at him_, that Zack had been _watching him_, and that _ZACK WAS HERE._

Some part of the older Cloud managed to rise to the forefront of the ruckus and remind him that _he looked like a bloody idiot_ just gaping at Zack like a chocobo that had gotten socked in its fluffy stomach.

He snapped his mouth shut quickly. His throat worked twice before he managed to squeeze out a hoarse "Thank you, sir" – mentally he winced at his thready tone, but he figured Zack would just blame it on Cloud being exhausted from the fight.

Zack held his hand for a few seconds longer than was necessary, and if Cloud hadn't been staring straight into his deep blue eyes, if Cloud hadn't been old enough to know the difference, he wouldn't have noticed the split second when Zack's eyes were thoughtful rather than smiling.

Then the First just nodded, releasing Cloud's sweaty hand and turning to Reno.

"Good work." Reno seemed to have gathered his wits, and he replied with a respectful "Thank you, sir" that sounded a damn sight more collected than Cloud's. Cloud really wanted to smack him.

Zack didn't hold Reno's hand for long, turning back to Cloud as soon as Reno had replied. The look on his face would have fooled anyone else, but Cloud knew Zack was trying to figure out how a short, skinny hillbilly had managed to hold his own against a taller, tougher street-fighter. He wiped his face clean of expression, standing straight even though his muscles were protesting every little thing, and trying to get his breathing under control.

Dimly he was aware that his heart was beating faster than it had during the entirety of the fight, and he knew he was freaking out over being so close to Zack.

_Be a MAN, dammit._

But he had missed Zack terribly. And he'd longed for the chance to see him, to be near him, so that he could just throw himself to the ground and beg for forgiveness and plead with Zack never to leave him, never to sacrifice his life for him, never to make Cloud have to live out both their lives because he couldn't refuse a dying friend's wish.

If he sank to his knees right now, Reno might get other ideas.

Speaking of 'other physical pursuits'…

Cloud was suddenly glad that cadets had to wear their God-awful fatigues everywhere. It was helping to hide the bruises on his legs and his _very_ scraped knees. He didn't miss the way Zack's eyes lingered on his arms, knew what he was seeing without even looking down.

Zack's lack of reaction spoke volumes to Cloud – though he was having trouble translating. Zack wasn't an idiot, he _had_ to know what the bruises meant, so why the indifference? Did he not care? It hurt a little to think that, but Cloud stomped the feeling out ruthlessly. Why should Zack care what he did? He was just a cadet trying to pass his exams, and Zack was a First Class SOLDIER. Zack didn't know Cloud, hadn't made friends with the blond yet, so why should the dark-haired man give a damn about Cloud's private life?

Or maybe, and this thought made Cloud's heart flutter a little – in fear or delight, he didn't want to know - just maybe, Zack already knew about what Cloud had been up to? That would explain the lack of reaction – but then, how had he found out? Had Reno tattled? Had Reno perhaps told the other cadets about how needy and desperate and downright _willing_ Cloud could get? Had they all had a laugh about it, were they all calling him the resident ho? Cloud didn't think so – the red-head was a sneaky bastard but this was a whole other level of bastardliness. So if Reno hadn't bragged about getting Cloud to spread his legs, then how had Zack found out? Had someone else noticed and told? Jared, perhaps? He'd certainly seemed amused by Cloud's and Reno's 'activities'. Or had Zack found out on his own? How? And why? It would mean that Zack had done his own research, had gone the extra mile before approaching Cloud like this. Why had he done it? Why was he _here_, talking to Cloud and Reno in the middle of class, when Cloud couldn't for the life of him ever remember Zack attending _any_ of his cadet classes?

_What the FUCK is going on?_

This was uncharted waters – Cloud had no memories to go on, no experience to back him. He didn't like it - it was making him nervous, _Zack_ was making him nervous, and he knew himself well enough to know that when he was anxious he tended to do some very stupid things. Like blurt out secrets he shouldn't even know to begin with.

Zack had started speaking again, and Cloud struggled to focus on what he was saying.

"…are definitely improving. You need to work on your strength and stamina, but I can't fault your techniques or reflexes."

Had Cloud been a true fifteen year old, he would have flushed with pride and probably fainted from the attention. But he was older - a man who had been through hell and back, whose skills were a result of suffering and honed for the sake of survival and world peace - so he simply nodded, offering a quiet "thank you, sir" while still keeping his eyes trained on Zack's. The SOLDIER hadn't dropped his gaze, and seemed to be looking for something, but what it was Cloud didn't know. Then Jeffries came over, and Cloud was forced to turn to the sergeant and salute.

"Well done, Strife, Reno. Go do your stretches and cool down before lunch." The sergeant nodded at the two cadets, and they saluted again before heading off. Reno looked like he really wanted to talk to Cloud about something – probably the fact that a SOLDIER First had watched their match and been impressed – but Cloud was glad that Reno had sense enough to hold his tongue, at least until Zack and Jeffries were out of ear-shot. Some of the other cadets weren't as discrete, and Cloud was bombarded with congratulations and questions before he'd even managed to reach his water-bottle.

Cloud really missed First Tsurugi's silencing powers.

He answered politely, as best he could, then ducked behind Reno to get his stretches done. The red-head was the talker anyway, could always be counted on to give a glib lie or a stinging retort or a snarky insult. Cloud was the taciturn blond who never said much except when giving orders or asking questions, and it suited him just fine. Zack had been the only person to get him to actually _talk_ about anything non-life-threatening, but there was only one person in world that Cloud really wanted to talk to, and _he_ wasn't here.

He moved through the cool down, keeping his eyes on Zack and wishing he had his Mako-enhancements so he could hear what the First was murmuring about with Jeffries. Cloud's hearing had always been slightly above average, but even if Zack hadn't been pitching his voice low, the excited gossiping of the cadets around Cloud would have drowned out anything Zack said anyway. From what Cloud could see, whatever it was that Zack was saying was making Jeffries puff out his chest with pride. It was probably something about Reno and Cloud progressing so well in his class – even though their fighting styles had absolutely _nothing_ in common with the katas that Jeffries taught.

As Cloud was reaching the end of his stretches, Zack nodded at Jeffries, who saluted him, then turned and left the hall. Just before he exited however, the First angled his head slightly, and Cloud was surprised to see that Zack was looking back at him. Then the dark-haired SOLDIER walked out of sight.

_What the hell was THAT about?_

Zack was behaving weirdly. Or perhaps he had always been like this but Cloud hadn't noticed. Thinking back now, it certainly seemed out of character for a SOLDIER First to be so bloody perky and downright _optimistic_. While most SOLDIERs tended to view themselves as rough, tough MoFos, a lot of them displayed symptoms of PTSD – which wasn't a surprise, considering some of the things they'd had to do as part of their job. Cloud had only found out about these covert, clandestine assignments much later, when Reno had been a bit tipsy and mentioned them in Seventh Heaven just to remind Cloud that he had never actually _been_ an ex-SOLDIER.

So Zack's cheer had been forced, then? He hadn't been completely honest with Cloud? Or maybe the man was just naturally happy-go-lucky, and didn't let his work get him down. Cloud had always viewed Zack as the perfect guy – handsome, funny, intelligent, friendly, warm, caring, generous, and strong. His long-standing image of Zack certainly didn't mesh with _this_ Zack, who looked at Cloud thoughtfully and almost clinically, and who popped into cadet training only to speak quietly – _quietly_ – Zack was _never_ quiet – with the instructor. Had Cloud really been that obtuse? Had so much really gone over his head?

It was certainly possible. There _was_ a reason why Cloud was a prime target for bullies. He'd never really paid attention to anything until it was too late and a fist was crashing into his nose.

Somehow it saddened Cloud – not the knowledge that Zack was different, no, but more the fact that he was _more_ than Cloud had thought him to be, and that Cloud hadn't been doing his friend justice even in his memories, because Cloud had made him out to be a two-dimensional figure at best, and Zack was so much more than that. Zack had his own dreams, his own desires, his own goals and wishes and hopes and thoughts – but whatever Cloud hadn't stolen, he'd ignored or forgotten.

_I'll do better this time, you'll see. I'll be a true friend to you, as you were mine._

Cloud would die before letting Zack sacrifice himself for him – he knew that with a certainty that was rooted in the very core of his being. Once upon a time, he'd been weak, puny, addled with Mako and content to just let his friend take care of him. This time around, Cloud would guard Zack with his life – it was the only way he would ever be able to repay his friend for everything, the only way Cloud would ever truly feel forgiven for Zack's death.

_I miss you, Zack._

-----

Sephiroth could smell food. Wutaian. Zack wanted something.

He pretended to be engrossed in his work when the door was almost launched off its hinges for the second time that day and Zack attempted to bounce in while juggling several take-out containers and drinks. Sephiroth refused to acknowledge the First, and he certainly wasn't going to move his work to make space for the bribe.

Not that Zack gave a damn. The dark-haired man simply plunked the food down all over Sephiroth's neatly typed documents, and dragged his usual chair up to the table, opening the cartons carelessly and getting some stir-fried vegetables on a folder marked 'Urgent'.

_Zachary._

Sephiroth just gave a small sigh and set his pen down, reaching out to draw his own container over to himself. It was one of his favorite lunches – seafood in spicy fried rice, with a side order of spinach and beef. Zack _definitely_ wanted something.

The First was already digging into his own noodles with gusto, and seemed for all the world to have forgotten that he was in the General's office and not a canteen. Sephiroth wanted to smile, but he refused to give Zack the pleasure, so he simply broke apart the cheap wooden chopsticks and took a bite of the beef. It was good, but then again Zack had purposely gone to their usual take-out joint for it. Sephiroth wondered if the proprietors knew that one of their regular patrons was The Great General. He wondered what they'd do if they found out – probably wrap the food up in a stupid pink ribbon and give it to him for free.

They ate in silence for awhile, Sephiroth content to enjoy the break from his bureaucratic duties. He had never been one for administration, even though he liked things organized and always made sure that SOLDIER and the army ran like a well-oiled machine. But nothing had prepared him for the amount of paper-pushing he'd be subject to as General – he'd foolishly hoped that he'd just spend his days fighting or training.

It wasn't as though he had any help from Zack. The First was notoriously lazy when it came to actual _work_, and always seemed to have something or other to do whenever Sephiroth held out a stack of files to him. If Zack wasn't causing paperwork, he was running around shirking his duties or trying to drag Sephiroth into some hare-brained scheme designed to give him 'a life'. Not to mention that Zack had been the one to introduce CSI to him, which meant that the dark-haired man now felt that he deserved copious amounts of special privileges which Sephiroth granted sometimes – after a particularly enjoyable episode.

Sephiroth wondered for the thousandth time just _why_ exactly he put up with the trouble-making wild child.

_Because Angeal took him under his wing._

He pushed that thought away ruthlessly.

He supposed he appreciated the company – Zack could always be counted on to spend time with him whether Sephiroth liked it or not. And Zack was the only person around anymore who didn't treat him with that annoying reverence or poorly concealed lust or often unwarranted fear that everyone else seemed to deem him deserving of. Sephiroth knew he was something of a legend, knew he was the object of many fantasies and some nightmares, and he supposed that meant he was doing his job. He certainly didn't mind being considered good-looking – it helped ensure a steady stream of people in his bed, which meant that he rarely had to sleep alone.

Zack seemed to think he longed for someone to be waiting for him whenever he came home, and Sephiroth couldn't understand what he'd done to give the other man that impression. It wasn't like he was lonely or anything – he was used to being alone, used to standing separate from everyone else even when surrounded by a crowd. He liked it sometimes - but more than that he was accustomed to it - and he wrapped himself in his solitude like a favorite old cloak. It was familiar, it had never failed him, and it was enough.

Zack wanted him to be _happy_.

The man had taken one too many whacks to the head.

"I spoke to him, a little."

Sephiroth didn't even glance up at Zack, simply taking a sip of his tea.

"I got Jeffries to hold a free-sparring session, just so I could watch the kid. He was teamed up with that red-head Tseng's been eyeing. You should've seen them, Seph." Zack didn't sound like he was eating, so he must be looking at him. Sephiroth refused to acknowledge the First, although he relaxed his shoulders slightly so that Zack would continue.

_Another red-head..?_

"I mean, I wasn't actually surprised with the red-head. He's from the slums, and, well, there _is_ a reason why the Turks have their eyes on him." Zack had started eating again, apparently content with Sephiroth's subtle gesture. "But you should've seen Cloud, man. He was _fucking_ awesome!"

At that, Sephiroth looked up, straight into Zack's sea-blue eyes. The First stilled, a chopstick laden with spicy noodles bare inches from his mouth. He seemed surprised with Sephiroth's rather blatant indication of attention, but Sephiroth didn't care. Sure, Zack tended to exaggerate a lot of things, but he would never come to Sephiroth and talk someone up without basis. He raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired man, and waited patiently for him to continue.

Zack was more than happy to oblige.

"It's like he just let himself go, you know? Just let loose, let instincts take over. The Reno kid fights dirty, well _duh_ he's from the 'hood and all, but so does Cloud, 'cept it's so much more graceful and deadly and _controlled_ than street-fighting. It's like, I dunno, like he's _used_ to street-fighting but on a whole other level – like he's had to do it so many times he's actually _perfected_ it, put some finesse into it and turned it into an art or something. I mean, it wasn't _completely_ perfect, there were _some_ kinks, growing body and all that, but it looked like some of the moves were just thought up on the spot, and that's some serious quick thinking." Just _how_ Zack managed to say all that coherently when he'd stuffed his mouth full of chicken and noodles was beyond Sephiroth. He supposed it had something to do with practice making perfect.

"I'm serious, Seph." Zack was almost done with his food - noodles and side-dishes and all. "I've never seen anyone move like that." And this time the First waited until Sephiroth met his eyes before continuing. "Not even you."

The gauntlet had been thrown.

Zack knew very well that Sephiroth could never resist a good challenge, especially one worded so well and phrased so eloquently.

"I'll come observe when the paperwork's finished." Sephiroth wanted to smirk when Zack perked up and reached for a stack of folders.

_Like taking candy from a baby._

-----

Zack wasn't an idiot, even though he tended to act a fool. There was a reason why he'd risen through the ranks so quickly, and it wasn't because Angeal had taken him under his proverbial wing – before he'd sprouted the real one.

_Stop thinking about him_.

Zack scowled at the paperwork on his desk. It was requisition forms – the _vilest_ of documentation. But if sucking it up and signing some stupid papers meant that Sephiroth would watch Cloud then it was a good bargain. Zack didn't know why he wanted Sephiroth to see Cloud so much, didn't know why there was this all-consuming feeling in his chest and this scream in the back of his mind that insisted that _it was meant to be_. He'd been surprised himself when watching Strife and Reno, had applauded without thinking, just because he'd been so impressed with the fight that he'd reacted instinctively. A part of him wanted to join in, to take them on, because the two cadets were skilled and brutal, and Zack loved a good spar. But another part of him had been glad to be on the side-lines watching, because he'd had a ring-side view of something that was at once controlled and primal, a deadly dance of both subtle and not-so-subtle power.

Zack had been telling the truth when he'd said that he'd never seen anyone move like that. Strife was a whole other level of fighter, the kind who had intelligence and experience and _instincts_ – the kind of warrior for whom blood-shedding was more than second nature; it was a way of life. He was curious, practically bursting at the seams with questions, but he forced himself to be patient, to get to know the kid better first. There had been _something_ in those baby blues, something that was at once familiar and unknown to Zack, and he wanted desperately to know what it was because he'd been almost over-whelmed by the desire to grab the little blond and hug him and tell him that everything was OK.

Cloud had looked as though he'd wanted Zack to do just that, but it wasn't in the way that most cadets looked at him – Big Bad SOLDIER and all. No, it was more like there was something they'd been through together, something _Cloud_ had been through that for some reason he believed Zack would understand and commiserate with – and Zack was at a loss as to what. He'd never been to Nibelheim, didn't really know anyone from that backwater mountain town, and he'd never actually _met_ the kid until today. It was pissing him off, this not knowing, this _wanting_ to know, but he calmed himself quickly. He was probably just misreading the split-second look on the kid's face. After all, Zack was Brigadier General (he'd had a look at the name-plate on his seldom-used door), so this little cadet was probably looking up to him as a big brother or something. Spiky _was_ an only child after all, and, given his stature and the way he held himself, had probably always longed for an older sibling to act as his protector or guardian. It certainly made things easier for Zack, who was suited to such nurturing roles. And the blond was pretty diminutive, making Zack's knightly instincts scream at him to take care of the kid. He resolved to do just that. Maybe after awhile, when Spiky had warmed up to him, the blond would trust him enough to tell him what was going on. Zack wanted answers, but more than that he wanted to appease the voice in his head that was shrieking at him to go and wrap his arms around the cadet and hold him close and let him know that he wasn't alone, that he had _friends_.

Zack always _had_ been a sucker for the silent types.

It didn't help that the blond was very tough and yet almost fragile. The mysterious co-existence of the two very dissimilar qualities was making Zack want to drag the boy back to his apartment and sit him down for a nice, long chat – one that _wasn't_ followed by other physical pursuits. The blond was pretty, no doubt about that, but somehow it just felt wrong to think of him that way. He'd seen the bruises on the kid's arms, known they were from the red-head, but instead of dirty thoughts all that came to mind was the desire to march over to the slum kid and threaten him with bodily harm if he ever hurt Cloud in a way that the Nibelheim cadet didn't want him to.

Zack really was too protective sometimes.

He sighed. Cloud Strife was a puzzle, a quandary, a conundrum, a mystery, whatever the hell you wanted to call it. It was another reason why Zack wanted Sephiroth there to observe – a burden shared is halved after all. And Sephiroth, while not as skilled as Zack with the subtleties of relationships, was highly intelligent and had much keener eyes. The General would notice every little thing, would be able to catalogue it and memorize it – and his opinion on the matter would help Zack sort out his confusion. If Sephiroth said that the blond was just looking up to Zack as a cadet did a SOLDIER, then Zack would know that he had definitely been misinterpreting the blond's expression. If Sephiroth said that Cloud was simply finally coming into his own and had not suddenly developed such mad skills, then Zack and the instructors simply needed to work on _their_ observational skills. It wasn't as simple as that, Zack knew. He doubted that himself and the instructors, experienced as they were, would have missed out on important clues. But Sephiroth could always tell when someone was a natural, could read people quite well, and his opinion on the matter would provide some reassurance to Zack – even though the man himself wasn't perfect, and was definitely quite blind to certain things. But the General never said anything without thinking about it a hundred different ways first, so if the silver-haired man actually decided that Zack was reading too much into the matter, then it was probably true.

Zack _knew_ he was obsessing when he'd dragged himself out of bed and into the office on time. Remembering the looks on the faces of everyone he'd passed on his way into work was almost enough to make him OK with the stupid form smirking up at him about new gym equipment – which stupid _wanker_ was it who'd decided that free-weights made excellent Frisbees?

Wait, hang on, he distinctly remembered yelling at Kunsel to go long.

_Oh_.

It was a good thing that Zack was the one signing the request form and not Sephiroth then. He'd probably get beaten pretty badly in their next training session. He tended to avoid those, even though he enjoyed being pushed to his limits – but Sephiroth was too fast and too strong, even for Zack, and he really didn't enjoy being flung to the ground and into the wall like a rag-doll. The man tended to come at Zack with everything he had, and a part of Zack felt very proud that the General obviously considered him good enough to take whatever he could dish out. Another part of Zack wondered if it was just the man's sadistic streak that made him beat lowly Firsts to a pulp for shits and giggles In The Name of Training.

Even Angeal had had to gang up with Genesis to take on Sephiroth.

_STOP fucking THINKING about him, idiot._

He needed a distraction - he wasn't going to be able to get anything done like this. Zack knew enough about work to know that you had to take regular breaks to focus better – if there was one thing he liked about having to do his duties, it was the constant breaks that were absolutely necessary to prevent sub-par performance.

His mind made up, he chucked his Pink Panther pen into the obnoxious Garfield mug-cum-stationery-holder on his desk, and practically pranced out of his office.

He wondered where Spiky was.

-----

Aeris had never looked into the memory of Zack's death. She had never been strong enough, _would_ never be strong enough for that. She knew that Cloud could remember – sometimes more vividly than a supernova, sometimes just vague flashes - mostly emotions - and the only thing that always stood out clear as day in his head were Zack's last words and the final image of Zack lying there bruised and broken and bleeding – in a word: dead.

She had never asked Zack about it, but she knew he had his demons too – she knew that there was something in Zack that regretted what had happened on the cliff – not because he'd wanted Cloud dead instead of him, no, Zack cared too much about the younger man – but she had a feeling it had something to do with Zack telling Cloud that he was his living legacy while holding Cloud's face to the blood on his torso.

Had Zack been aware of the mutation that would manifest? Had Zack known, been expecting, that a part of Cloud would become Zack?

Had Zack wanted Cloud to forever carry him in his blood and soul?

She didn't dare to ask. She shouldn't even have picked up on that – but the Lifestream tended to amplify thoughts and meld emotions from soul to soul, and that one feeling - that one memory - had weighed on Zack for a long time while watching his friend. Aeris knew that Tifa always tried to get Cloud to talk in the hopes that it might help ease his pain – a burden shared is halved after all – but she didn't want to know this. She didn't know if she could accept the answer Zack would give her, even though she knew she wouldn't blame him. He had only wanted Cloud to live, to be strong, and maybe, just maybe, to see her and give her another shot at happiness.

That didn't mean he didn't regret smearing his blood on Cloud's face so soon after the escape from the lab.

She shouldn't have picked up on it. It was something that was gnawing at her, eating at her slowly from the inside. And now there was no chance of ever getting an answer anyway, because Zack was alive here. Yet Aeris couldn't shake the feeling that Zack had done something terribly wrong up on that cliff – even if his motivations were pure and good.

_What's done is done_.

That was all in the future's past – NOW was different, and Cloud would never let what had happened happen again.

Aeris would just have to forget she ever realized that Zack had felt guilty for Cloud's muddled memories and lost self.

-----

"I've seen him around, that SOLDIER."

Cloud's head snapped up and he stared at Reno. They were at lunch, and, as usual, surrounded by other cadets from their bunker, but Cloud was glad that Reno had finally broached the subject.

He wanted to hear about Zack, he wanted someone to share this joy, this _pain_, with. Reno wouldn't understand completely, no, but at least the red-head was someone to talk to about the SOLDIER – _now_ at least Cloud had a reason to mention the First's name without sounding suspicious.

Reno held his eyes for a second longer than was necessary, and Cloud wondered if he'd let something slip in his expression.

_Once a Turk, always a Turk._

"He's the General's Right-Hand Man, since some cats called Angeal and Genesis went AWOL or something." Reno was focusing on his food now, and Cloud was very glad for that. He didn't remember anyone called Angeal or Genesis, but at the mention of their names a sudden vivid image of a tall, well-built man with a Buster Sword on his back walking away from him had assaulted him then run away before he could make any sense of it.

Cloud frowned a little. Had he met them before? Or was it the Zack part of him that had reacted to the mention of their names?

Reno was looking at him again, and Cloud quickly schooled his expression into one of mild interest.

"Heard he's a total nice guy, you know? A real guy's guy. Supposedly only the General can beat him in a fight." Alright, Reno was _definitely_ acting hinky. He was watching Cloud a bit too closely, but Cloud couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was that the other cadet wanted.

Not for the first time he wondered if Reno was from the future too.

"I heard he's got a HUGE sword." Brian jumped in, eager as always to talk about SOLDIERs, and seemingly proud that he had actually stood next to a First Class - never mind that said First Class probably hadn't even noticed him.

Jared snorted. "I'm sure he does, Brian."

Cloud wanted to grin when Tranton looked a bit confused for a second, before realization of what he'd said set in and he flushed slightly, turning to glare at Jared for always having sex on the brain.

_Boys._

Reno just rolled his eyes.

"What I MEAN is, he's got this massive, like, I dunno, 300lbs sword or something – I heard it's called a Buster Sword." Brian was _huffing_, and Cloud wanted to snicker. It was all rather amusing, and he felt a little sad that he'd missed out on this the first time around. No matter, he was here now.

Jared raised his eyebrows, and probably would have jumped in with another lewd comment, but Ray beat him to it.

"Heard he got it from his mentor – that Angeal guy. It's passed down from SOLDIER to SOLDIER or something like that." Ray was lisping a little, his split lip was giving him some trouble but none of the cadets were allowed to go to the infirmary to get their injuries seen to – it was a character building thing.

Cloud knew very well that the Buster Sword wasn't passed down from SOLDIER to SOLDIER. HE'D certainly never been a SOLDIER – Zack had shoved the deadly masterpiece into his hands simply because he'd been the only other person around. It wasn't like Cloud would've even known how to use it had he not stolen Zack's memories.

Cloud had never felt worthy of such a legacy, and he was very glad that Zack was alive here. The blond never wanted to be given the Buster Sword again – not even if it meant that Zack trusted him enough to bear the burden of his honor.

He was depressing himself again, and he pulled himself back to the present with some effort, focusing on the gossip going on at his table.

"I wonder why he was at our training." Brian mused thoughtfully. Cloud wondered if he should mention that some of Brian's food was sliding off the end of his fork and onto the brown-haired boy's hand.

"I've seen him watching us before." Reno mentioned off-handedly, but Cloud could tell it was deliberate. The red-head almost appeared to be _baiting_ him, and Cloud suddenly realized why. He was waiting for Cloud to let something slip about knowing Zack, because Reno probably figured that Cloud's jump in skill had something to do with the dark-haired SOLDIER.

_I don't do favors_, _Turk_.

Cloud was suddenly very glad for the others around them. Brian jumped in at that revelation with all the enthusiasm and animation of a kid in a candy shop.

"REALLY?! You mean he's actually been observing us for awhile?! Oh my God that's awesome! Are we like the only cadets he's been checking out? Have any of the other bunkers had him in their classes?! Why didn't you say anything before?!"

Reno winced at the volume and probably would have delivered a scathing retort had Jared not jumped in with another perverted one-liner.

"I doubt we're the only ones he's _checking out_."

Brian's mouth worked soundlessly, making him look like a goldfish trying to gobble up the bits of bread floating around its fat little tank.

Reno started speaking again quickly. "He's only started watching us recently. Only reason I noticed is coz of his hair. Seen him hiding out nearby whenever we have classes."

Brian looked like he was going to shriek with joy again, but Ray had had enough, clapping a hand over the excitable boy's mouth. It seemed the brunette didn't like screamers.

_Pervert._

Cloud had been spending too much time with Reno.

"HOW recently?" Ralph hadn't said anything before this, content to just stuff his face. The rather livid bruise stretching from his forehead down across a high cheekbone was awfully reminiscent of the marks on the faces of men who were foolish enough to grope Tifa's…assets.

Reno looked at Cloud. "Last week."

_Oh._

Cloud didn't know if he wanted to jump for joy or kick himself. He'd attracted Zack's attention with his little Matt-stunt – but he didn't know if it was a good thing. On the one hand it meant that Zack was paying attention to him, would maybe even respect him as someone who could take care of himself; but on the other hand it WAS rather suspect - wimpy little nobody turned kick-ass street-fighter. And Cloud knew Zack well enough to know that the black-haired man was smart – the First would definitely know that something was up, something was different, and when Zack got something in his head he was _unstoppable_.

So Zack really _was_ up to something; _wanted_ something from Cloud. The First was trying to figure out where this sudden jump in skill had come from.

His chest hurt. Zack was supposed to be his _friend_, the person who would eventually sacrifice his life for Cloud. But here Zack had only come up to him because he was curious, suspicious. It was too much, and Cloud wanted to cry. He was suddenly very thankful for his inability to tear. It wouldn't do to start bawling in the middle of the mess hall for no obvious reason.

_Did you really think he came over for the pleasure of your company? Fucking idiot._

Cloud looked down at his food, swallowing the lump in his throat and wishing he'd never been sent back in time. He had always told himself that Zack was his one true friend, the one man who had always cared unconditionally for Cloud, the brave SOLDIER who had rescued Cloud time and time again, watched over him, protected him. Zack was Cloud's guardian angel, the one person Cloud had always trusted to look out for him. And here it seemed that all Zack wanted was information, not friendship. Cloud really wished he'd just let Matt beat him up. Then maybe Zack would have come to see him in the infirmary and they could have started their tough-SOLDIER-guardian-to-wimpy-nobody relationship.

_Oh, grow up._

So what if Zack was suspicious? So what if all that Zack wanted right now was just information? Cloud knew Zack well, better than he knew himself sometimes. Zack could never resist being nice to people, didn't have a mean bone in his body. Zack might start out seeking facts, but it would inevitably lead to some sort of relationship – Zack was too damned _nice_ not to like Cloud. This change in events was just a different stepping stone to the path of friendship, that's all. Cloud was mature now, a _man_ – he might never be Zack's equal, but he would at least not let Zack down ever again. They might not be able to talk about much else besides their hometowns, but Cloud would welcome any chance to bask in Zack's warmth and attention.

A part of Cloud had always longed for Zack to be his mentor in the Art of War. Maybe, just maybe, he could have that opportunity now – never mind that he already knew all of Zack's moves.

_Don't get your hopes up._

It was hard not to. The bubble of joy, the sheer happiness and _hope_ that had come from being so near Zack, from seeing that familiar smile directed at him again, was buoying - making Cloud feel like he was floating on a nimbus of possibilities and dreams.

Things could be _different_ here. It suddenly really sank in; hit Cloud like one of Tifa's punches to the gut. There was a chance at happiness, at _true_ friendship. It was more than he'd had before – when it had been mostly pity and kindness on Zack's part. Now, Cloud could actually _connect_ with Zack, and they could have a friendship that wasn't based on running and hiding and dragging each other to safety. They wouldn't be two country-bumpkins in the Big City – they could be two men who shared their dreams with each other.

_Thank you._

Cloud had never felt so relieved in his life. He would have to watch himself – couldn't let anything slip – but he had never felt so light; for once his heart wasn't being pulled down by the hands of guilt clawing away at it. He had a chance to start over; it was a clean slate; it was the blessed, blessed new beginning he had always longed for. God bless Aeris.

_Just don't screw up._

Cloud didn't think he could live through everything one more time.

-----

Tuesday morning saw Cloud in the bathroom making good on his resolution. He wasn't shaking so much anymore - although he was still sweating like a pig before he was even half-way through his chin-ups - but he was making progress, he already _felt_ stronger, and he could tell from the way Reno had been wincing that he was starting to (very slowly) develop some pretty serious muscle.

It was enough to make Cloud want to do the boogie while heading out to the track.

He needed to get his hands on a stopwatch of some sort. Cloud could tell he was gradually improving his stamina, but he wanted to clock his time as well – he'd been well-known for being faster than a lightning bolt, and it had been one of the things he was proudest of – never mind that he'd been genetically-enhanced. He made a mental note to pick up some sort of watch this weekend, or at least break into the instructors' lounge and help himself to one of their time-pieces.

Reno was as sleepy as ever at breakfast, and Cloud was as amused as he was every morning. It wasn't _that_ hard getting by on so little sleep – but boys would be boys. Cloud himself had been one of the hardest hit by the zero-six-thirty wake-up cry, had always enjoyed that sublime warmth under the covers that could only come from knowing you absolutely _had_ to get your arse out of bed ASAP. They ate in relative silence, broken only by Jared's incessant yawning, which kept infecting Brian and Ralph and making _them_ yawn non-stop, which would lead to Jared yawning some more, and so on and so forth. Had Cloud been a different man he'd have burst out laughing.

_Boys._

They shuffled out to PT, Gunny Payne screeching at them as lovingly as he did every morning. The running didn't affect Cloud so much anymore, not even with his private training every morning, and he was glad that youth helped ease the effects of exertion. As an older man, he probably wouldn't have been able to adjust this quickly to so much exercise, Mako-enhancements aside. It seemed Reno was doing his best to keep up with Cloud, and the blond was amused and a little glad. It felt nice knowing that he was sort of inspiring others to improve themselves, even if they only worked at it because they wanted to be able to wipe the floor with him. But at least this time he and Reno weren't on opposite sides of the law, so he wouldn't have to worry too much about the red-head's rather sneaky skills.

_Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer._

Cloud was turning into quite the little hermit in a mountain cave.

He upped his pace, just to annoy Reno, and almost smirked when the red-head instantly increased his speed too – although Reno looked like he was about to pass-out pretty soon from this prolonged 'brisk jogging'. The Gunny had had a slightly sadistic look on his choleric mug when they'd arrived, and they all knew what it meant – more time running round and round the ugly old track than usual.

When they finally tottered off the field and headed to sword-training, Reno's face had gone from purple to deathly pale, and Cloud wondered if he should run before the barf-fest started. He knew better than to ask if the red-head was OK – Reno would just bite his head off. Brian and two other cadets had already regurgitated their breakfasts (and probably last night's dinners) out on the track, and the rest of them had had to endure the stench of it while moving through their drills. It hadn't been pretty.

_Eau de cadet._

Cloud was one of the shortest of the group, so he couldn't tell why the cadets in front of him suddenly stopped and tensed – Jared actually clapped a hand over his mouth and scuttled off towards the nearest bathroom. Cloud frowned, confused, until a laughing voice broke the general stupor.

"I'm not _that_ bad-looking, am I? Never had anyone throw up on seeing me before."

Zack was here.

Suddenly Cloud wanted to throw up too.

The instructors started yelling at the cadets to get their asses inside and pick up their swords – it was free-sparring day. There was a collective whimper from the recruits – no one wanted to look like an idiot in front of Brigadier General Zack Fair. Cloud himself tensed up, and his mind kicked into overdrive. It was too much to be a coincidence, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Reno working it out too.

Yesterday's free-sparring in hand-to-hand had been all Zack's idea.

_Sneaky bastard._

So it seemed that Zack _really_ wanted answers. Cloud was glad he wasn't strong or fast enough to have pulled some of his regular moves yesterday – it would have definitely put himself on Zack's radar.

Reno turned to look at him, and Cloud was glad he'd never allowed himself to be very expressive. He kept his face carefully blank, trudging in behind the others and picking up his practice sword from the racks at the other end of the hall. He passed Zack on the way, and he didn't miss how the SOLDIER kept glowing blue eyes on him. Cloud pretended not to notice, but he knew Reno had. He was seized with a sudden over-whelming desire to just bonk Reno on the head as hard as he could.

_Oh, grow up._

Reno insisted on being partnered with Cloud again, and it was only because Jared was in the bathroom, Ray's split lip was making him lisp like a retarded monkey, Ralph didn't want his pretty face getting more love-bites, and Brian was still reeling from the effects of throwing up and seeing Mr SOLDIER again that the red-head won. Cloud didn't even bother putting in his two gil – Reno was a stubborn bastard.

They got into their lines - Jared making it back in time to snag a sword and slink into a spot near the end of the hall - then the whistle blew and all hell broke loose.

It was a Party.

Cloud would probably have doubled over laughing if Reno hadn't launched into a flurry of attacks. As it was, he parried and blocked with ease, keeping his eyes trained on Reno while remaining aware of whatever was going on around him. It wouldn't do to trip over another cadet after all – might lead to a gang-fight or something.

Reno was pretty good with the practice sword, if only because it was basically a metal pole that he wielded as he would the Nightstick in future. Cloud could see why Reno had gravitated towards that one particular weapon – Reno was basically a street-fighting brawler, and he preferred bashing his opponents to slashing them. How terribly plebian.

Cloud couldn't see where Zack was, not in his current position, so he took the opportunity to duck a particularly swift strike of Reno's, throwing himself to the ground and rolling away from the red-head before standing up. He had a better view of the chaos this way, and he could see Zack now – standing near the doorway, deep blue eyes focused on _him_.

_Fuck me SIDEWAYS._

This was SO not good.

Cloud didn't have long to think about how imperative it was that he control himself, not let anything slip, when Reno was charging at him again and he instinctively back-flipped, one foot lashing out in mid-air to catch Reno in the chin. The red-head staggered, and Cloud cursed himself for being such a show-boat.

_Be a loser. For once in your life, it's OK to be a loser._

Except Cloud couldn't force himself to act a fool – not even if his life depended on it. He'd had nothing but his shattered pride to hang on to, especially after he'd sorted out his memories somewhat and realized that he'd never made it to SOLDIER. Then after that it had been only his numerous accomplishments that had made people like him, be nice to him, and Cloud had found some solace in it – in being the greatest living swordsman of all time – never mind that his skills and physical prowess weren't originally his own. He had been adored, worshipped the world over, and he just couldn't bring himself to be beaten and shamed and embarrassed, even though displaying his skills right now might blow his already shaky 'cover' to hell.

Then Reno swung at him again, and Cloud just let himself go.

He didn't bother to block or parry – his style had always been aggressive (or, more to the point, _Zack's_ style had always been aggressive) and when under attack he _always_ counter-attacked – unless he absolutely couldn't take his opponent; in which case he ran for his life. Cloud launched into his own sequence of attacks, and even though the practice sword wasn't what he was used to, even though this current body was smaller and weaker and skinnier than what he was used to, he knew he was kicking serious ass. It was all Reno could do to dodge the swift strikes coming at him from every angle, and dimly Cloud was aware that if he was just a bit faster, if Reno was just a bit slower, the red-head would probably need a trip to the infirmary. Cloud persevered, upping the pace because his body was tiring already and he really needed to take Reno out before he could get a rest; he doubted he would last for much longer.

A pair of cadets next to them suddenly stumbled into the path of a blow, and Cloud jerked back at the last second, scowling. Then suddenly Reno was there and the red-head's practice sword was slicing through the air towards Cloud's throat, and Cloud spun around quickly, leveling the tip of his own pseudo-sword at the nape of Reno's sweaty neck.

Reno hesitated for just a second before yielding.

They were both too tired to continue anyway.

Around them the melee was escalating, the cadets obviously forgetting that just because they were using practice weapons that didn't even remotely resemble swords, it didn't mean that they could continue fighting on despite taking so many 'death-blows'. It really was a Party, and Cloud was more than a little amused by it all. It reminded him of Saturday morning cartoons and their animated violence – all fists and sticks and feet rolling round and round while curses colored the air.

Then Zack was making his way through the fray towards him, and Cloud's breakfast decided to remind him that while it had tasted disgusting going down, it tasted much worse inching back up.

Zack had somehow snagged a practice sword along the way, plucking it out of some hapless cadet's hand as though he was a deity floating along in a parade in his honor. His deep blue eyes never left Cloud's, but the SOLDIER easily side-stepped every bumbling cadet that littered his way. Then suddenly he was _right there_, and the easy smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he looked at Cloud.

"Guard, Spiky."

It was only habit that made Cloud raise his sword. Reno had stepped away, near enough to hear everything, but far enough away that he wouldn't get hit by a stray blow. Then Zack attacked.

_Oh FUCK._

Cloud had barely enough time and presence of mind to dodge the first strike, when he had to throw himself to the ground and roll away because somehow the stupid piece of metal in Zack's hands had morphed into a Very Real Weapon. It was enough to make Cloud's instincts scream, racing through him with more force and brutality than it had last week when he'd fought Matt, and Cloud just reacted.

He blocked and parried blow after blow, barely aware that his arm was on _fire_, his lungs needed _air_, his legs needed _rest_, he wasn't going to win so he might as well roll over and _play dead_. Cloud didn't heed the rational part of his mind that was shrieking at him to tone it down, to not show off, to reveal nothing – all he knew was the here, the now, Zack's blue eyes focused so completely on his, face set in that familiar mask of concentration and determination, the ring of metal on metal as the two of them fought – SOLDIER First Class to Future World Savior. It was Wonderful, it was Terrifying, but most of all It Was Beautiful.

He would tell himself later that he hadn't really pulled anything fancy anyway – had mostly just defended himself – so he hadn't done anything _too_ dodgy.

There was a shrill clang as their swords met – Cloud's in an almost horizontal guard across his face, Zack's perpendicular and bearing down on the blond. The SOLDIER was putting some of his weight on the sword, and Cloud's arm was sobbing in pain but he ignored it, high on the rush of adrenaline that surged through him and made him oblivious to everything else but the need to _survive_, the need to _triumph_, the need to _crush, kill, and destroy_.

_The blade isn't the only part of the sword._

Cloud brought his left hand up, pressing it against one end of his weapon, then he twisted himself to the side, using Zack's sword as a pivot and almost slamming the 'hilt' of his metal pole into the First's left temple. Zack jerked back in time, and even as he dodged this first blow of Cloud's, his own sword was already speeding towards Cloud's ribs.

Cloud just back-flipped again.

Zack kept advancing, his never-ending strikes raining down on Cloud like a hail-storm of metal, and the blond kept retreating, dimly aware that he shouldn't be able to keep moving backwards like this, he should have tripped over some other cadet by now, he should be reaching the edge of the mat soon if he didn't stop moving backwards and away from the brutal blows of the First Class SOLDIER.

Then Zack feinted left, and Cloud knew what was coming, but his body just couldn't move anymore, wouldn't listen to him because he hadn't been listening to it – it needed _rest_, dammit – and Zack slammed his practice sword hard into Cloud's side, the blond crumpling to the ground like Cait Sith had when the cat had gotten accidentally smacked in its furry face by First Tsurugi.

_That HURT._

Cloud wasn't aware of much – his body had locked up, breathing was _torture_, and he was in _agony_. A part of him was screaming to get up, get up _quick_, before they come back and finish you off; but another part of him was yelling to stay down, don't do anything stupid, you're just a _cadet_ for crying out loud and you were walloped by a First Class and you need to _rest_ you fucking idiot, your body can't take any more.

Then a hand was on his shoulder and he was being rolled onto his back, and suddenly his vision was filled with Zack. The SOLDIER looked freaked out, but Cloud couldn't make out what he was saying – his ears were filled with a high-pitched buzzing, his eyes were unfocussed so lip-reading was out of the question, and he just felt like he would have passed out if he hadn't been clinging so desperately to consciousness.

_I don't feel too good._

Some words were starting to seep into the foggy mess that was his mind, and he struggled to focus on them, as if the simple act of listening to that familiar voice would help make the pain go away.

"…breathe. Just take deep breaths, it's OK. C'mon just breathe with me, Spiky. There you go."

Zack sounded like he was going to throw up, but Cloud didn't have the strength to move away.

It seemed Zack noticed that Cloud had finally regained his senses, because the SOLDIER appeared a little relieved before instantly looking contrite and launching into an apology.

"I'm SO sorry, Spiky! I shouldn't have hit you so hard! You'd better get it checked out at the infirmary – wouldn't want you running around with a cracked rib or whatever it is I gave you. I'm SO, SO, SO sorry! I pushed you WAY too hard and that was totally wrong of me! I should've controlled myself – you're just a _kid _and I came at you pretty hard and I'm SO sorry! Please, please tell me you're OK!"

Cloud would have appeased him, if only to get Zack to stop shrieking in his face, but the kid comment had stung and he mutinously refused to give Zack any comfort.

_Oh, grow up._

He managed to rasp out a shaky "I'm fine, Zack" before mentally kicking himself for using the SOLDIER's first name. It was far too casual, it belied a closer bond than they currently had, but Cloud was tired and in pain so his usual control had slipped far below what it normally was. He wasn't too fussed about knowing Zack's first name – heck, it would be _wrong_ if he didn't – the man was Brigadier General after all, and Cloud was playing up the part of star-struck little cadet.

Zack looked like he wanted to cry.

"Oh, THANK GOD! I'm really, really sorry Spiky. I shouldn't have done that. It was totally my fault, won't happen again."

If Cloud hadn't been so bloody exhausted, he would have told Zack that he didn't mind if it happened again, as long as it meant that he could have Zack's undivided attention. He'd missed this – it was just like old times, he thought blurrily: him getting hurt, and Zack freaking out.

_Ah, the good old days._

Suddenly the ground moved, and Zack's eyes were a lot closer than they'd been before. Cloud was being hoisted up by the SOLDIER, and it was _bridal-style_.

_Fuck me._

Pride was a wonderful thing to have sometimes. It stung Cloud into action, and he struggled ineffectually at the strong arms holding him. He had his self-respect - he was a _man_, dammit, not some stupid woman! – but Zack just shushed him and proceeded to run to the infirmary faster than Yuffie towards Materia.

_Talk about adding insult to injury._

-----

Reno hadn't been too surprised that Cloud lost. The blond _had_ been fighting a First Class SOLDIER after all. But he _had_ been shocked at how good the other cadet was.

He'd been in the presence of true predators.

The First Class had reminded Reno of a wolf – all sharp focus and dangerous gleam and liquid movement. Zack Fair was the quintessential wolf in sheep's clothing – all fluffy smiles and easy charm one minute, vicious strength the next - and Reno knew without a doubt just why the dark-haired man was so damned good at his job.

But looking at Cloud had brought to mind those wild felines that roamed the savannahs – Reno had heard stories of their deadly grace and sinuous menace, their brutal power cloaked in subtle actions and smooth motions; and if the blond had been a bit bigger, a bit better built, Reno would have bet good money on Cloud winning the impromptu match. Never mind that all the blond had been doing was defend himself – he WAS fighting a First Class after all – but he'd appeared in control, his actions completely fluid, unhurried, not at all panicked or frantic. There was no doubt about it: Cloud Strife was _very_ good with a sword. And Reno would find out where this sudden affinity for the blade came from if it was the last thing he did.

When the SOLDIER had picked Cloud up bodily and high-tailed it out of the training area, Reno had wanted to laugh at the expression on the blond's face. But Reno's very strong sense of self-preservation led him to control his snickers until the insulted and injured cadet was out of the hall – wouldn't do for Cloud to get his revenge during their next training session after all. The Nibel-brat had recently become very deadly in a fight, and Reno had never had a death wish.

_Unlike some people_.

Who the hell ran around getting into sword-fights with Bad Ass SOLDIER Firsts anyway? Never mind that the Brigadier General had initiated it and Cloud could have been thrown out or court-martialed for refusing – Spiky should've just thrown in the towel earlier. But a part of Reno bore a grudging respect for the blond – it was obvious the kid had his pride, wouldn't give up without a fight, and it was very fucking brave of him – albeit very fucking stupid.

_Discretion is the better part of valor_.

It was official: Cloud Strife could never be a Turk. The kid was made for SOLDIER – all "oo-rah"s and charging into battle and Never Giving Up. Reno hoped he would never have to be on the opposite side of a fight from Cloud – especially if the blond happened to have some sort of blade in his hands.

Cloud Strife was obviously a bad, bad man when he had something sharp in his hands.

The instructors were shrieking at them to put their swords away and cool down before lunch, but the cadets took more time than usual – too busy exclaiming over how awesome Cloud was, how awesome the SOLDIER was, and how _totally awesome_ it was to have had a SOLDIER First in their classes two days in a row.

_What the hell is this? TMNT? Enough with the awesomes! _

Reno rolled his eyes; picking up the swords Cloud and the SOLDIER had dropped and heading to the weapons rack. Brian was bouncing up and down, proclaiming at the top of his lungs how cool Cloud was and what an honor it was to have had the Brigadier General in their class _for the second day in a row_, and Ray was being restrained by Jared. It was probably a good thing too – the brunette looked like Brian's voice was making his head hurt and making him want to inflict some serious _pain_ on the excited Kalm boy.

Reno could hear the instructors talking among themselves, and it seemed he was the only cadet with sense enough to listen and not yell. He managed to pick up some phrases – mostly incredulity and awe at Strife's performance – but it also seemed that they had been asked to keep a close eye on the blond and re-assess everything they knew about him. Reno didn't have to wonder why.

It seemed Cloud's actions were already having a ripple effect.

Reno would have picked up on more had Ralph not accosted him at the weapons rack.

"You think Strife's OK?"

Reno raised an eyebrow. Since when did Ralph give a damn about Cloud?

_Since he morphed into Batman, duh._

He shrugged. "He'll be fine. That SOLDIER cat'll make sure he gets to the infirmary all right, and the doctors will use Materia on him. If not, then he'll have to leave the program, simple as that."

Ralph nodded, looking at Reno as though he'd expected more concern for the obvious fuck-buddy of the red-head's. Reno bristled a bit at that – since when had he come across as the sappy Hallmark type anyway? - then his ears were assaulted by Brian, and Reno really wished Jared would just let Ray rip.

"Of COURSE Cloud will be OK! He's like the BEST cadet EVER! Don't be so mean, Reno!"

If only cadets were allowed to desensitize themselves to killing before they made SOLDIER or Turks.

Reno turned to the brown-haired boy, biting insult ready on his lips, but he was beaten to it by Ray, who had finally been released by Jared.

"Tranton! SHUT the FUCK up, you RETARD!"

Well, it didn't look like Ray's split lip was giving him anymore trouble.

Brian instantly stilled, shock and a little hurt written clearly on his childish face. Had Reno been a different person, he would have felt a little sorry for the kid. But he was a hood rat, a street kid, someone who only cared about Number One and No One Else, so he just smirked nastily at Brian and gave Ray a light slap on the bicep as he passed him, heading towards his water-bottle.

He'd have to bring Spiky's with him when he left. Wouldn't do for the blond's things to get humped by Tranton, no sir, not at all.

-----

Zack was fluttering. There was no other word for it. While the doctor examined Cloud, the dark-haired SOLDIER vibrated all over the room, hands flapping in the air and words tumbling out of his lips in no reasonable order.

Cloud would have laughed if his ribs hadn't been killing him. He was pretty sure Zack was just doing this to cheer him up anyway – the lean, mean, killing machine replaced by wigged-out cheerleader? Come _on_.

At length Dr House stepped back, announcing that Cloud was simply suffering from a hairline fracture and a simple Cure2 spell coupled with some good rest would have him good as new by the morrow.

Zack fluttered some more.

It seemed the good doctor was used to this, simply reaching into his coat pocket – Cloud couldn't help jerking backwards, expecting the grey-haired man to withdraw a syringe filled with green liquid – but it was simply the familiar little orb in his hand. The spell was calming, soothing, and then it was over and Cloud could breathe easy.

Zack launched himself at the blond.

"I'm seriously SO sorry, Cloud! I didn't mean to hit you so hard! I just…I guess I kinda got caught up in the fight and I forgot you weren't SOLDIER. I mean, you kick serious ass, you know? I'm really sorry for hurting you." Zack's puppy-dog look nearly broke Cloud's heart – if only because it had been too long since he'd last seen it, and because he couldn't bear the thought of Zack, _Zack_, thinking that he'd hurt Cloud somehow. Zack was too wonderful to ever do that.

Zack had thought he'd been SOLDIER level? It made Cloud's heart swell with pride, and then instantly contract with fear. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ of him not to hold back, not to play the useless, inexperienced cadet – might as well just run around Shinra stark-naked with a Styrofoam crown on his head yowling about Armageddon and Jenova and Insane Sephiroth.

He managed to warble out another "I'm fine, Zack" and nearly cried when the dark-haired man beamed at him. It was too much, being this close to Zack, being held by Zack, having Zack freaking out and worrying about him just like he had up until he'd died…Cloud couldn't take it, needed to get away before he actually _did_ start bawling.

He made to move off the bed, but Zack's hold tightened and Cloud nearly squawked in surprise.

_What the hell..?_

He looked at Zack questioningly.

"You heard the man – you need rest! So just lie back, I'll go rustle up some grub, and you can head back to your bunk and take the rest of the day off. I'll clear it with your instructors." The First was attempting to appear stern, but he just looked like a Big Momma.

Cloud shook his head. "I'm _fine_, Zack. Really. I don't need to skip classes to get some rest – it's all just theory anyway. I'll be OK, honest."

Zack still looked unconvinced, but Cloud knew just what to do to get his way. It had worked plenty in the past against the First Class, and it worked plenty after that when Cloud had needed to use his wiles to get what he wanted.

He widened his eyes, pressed his lips together slightly to prevent himself from grinning, and looked at Zack with complete innocence and sincerity written all over his face.

Zack crumbled like a house of cards.

_Score._

"Well…alright, Spiky. If you're sure." Zack looked like he knew he was being played but was unable to resist anyway. Cloud couldn't help the little smile that escaped him, but he managed to temper it into one of gratitude instead of smugness. He pushed himself off the bed as Zack released him and stood back, then laid a hand briefly on the SOLDIER's bicep. It felt as strong as it had all those years ago - solid and powerful and _real_.

"Thank you, sir." Cloud offered softly. He didn't want to refer to Zack by anything other than his first name, but it would be too presumptuous, and his earlier informality could at least be chalked up to pain.

"Call me Zack, Spiky." Zack grinned at him, and a younger Cloud would have felt slightly annoyed with the nickname, but this older Cloud wanted to jump for joy at the beautiful familiarity of it all. He nodded at the Brigadier General, then a question escaped him before he could stop himself.

"How do you know my name, si-Zack?" Cloud wanted to kick himself. Where the hell did he get off questioning superior officers about stuff like that? And wasn't it a good thing that Zack knew his name anyway?

Zack didn't seem to mind. "Got it off Jeffries, Cloudy."

_Last week or yesterday?_

Cloud didn't bother voicing _that_ question. Zack was remarkably adept at half-truths – the man could be notoriously sneaky when he wanted to be, probably from dealing with Sephiroth and Shinra for so many years.

_Sephiroth._

Cloud really needed to get away from Zack. The dark-haired man was bringing back too many memories, bringing forth too many dreams and hopes and thoughts, and it was going to be very detrimental to Cloud's sanity and control if he lingered any longer, no matter how much he wanted to draw out this moment and make it last forever.

He nodded, offering another quiet "thank you" to Zack before giving him a half-smile and a sloppy salute. Then he turned and fled – brisk walking out of the infirmary, and breaking out into a jog the minute he turned a corner. He knew he should head to the mess hall, get some food in his stomach before he filled theory classes with the orchestra of hunger, but he didn't know if he could keep anything down with the way the butterflies had decided to tango in his belly. He pelted towards the mess hall anyway – just because he didn't want to be alone right now. Some company and ruckus might take his mind off Zack and _him_.

_Fuck me._

He almost thundered right into the canteen, catching himself just before he barreled through the double doors, pausing a moment to collect himself slightly before walking in. Instantly he wished he'd never left the infirmary. The entire hall hushed immediately, all eyes riveted on him, and Cloud really wished that he could just go postal. He ignored them all, grabbing a tray and getting his food – even the _cooks_ were looking at him funny – then debated just dumping everything and running away. But he'd sworn never to run away again, to always look danger in the eye and _prove_ that he was Someone Worth Caring For, so he just walked over to his usual spot which, he noted with some surprise, was empty; and it looked like someone had brought his water bottle from class for him. He was quite touched.

He sat down, offering the other boys a nod and wondering when the rest of the mess hall was going to just _eat their fucking food and stop staring at him_.

Reno broke the silence first. Cloud wanted to kiss him.

"Boo-yah!" The red-head yelled right into Brian's face, and the poor boy shrieked before toppling right off the bench and onto the ground, his plate of Unmentionables teetering dangerously close to the edge of the table. Jared pushed it back into a safer position while practically crying with mirth - Ray and Ralph were leaning against each other trying to breathe through their laughter, and pretty soon everyone else in the hall was joining in. Cloud allowed himself a small smile once he'd caught Reno's eyes – _thank you_ – then he smiled a little at a very embarrassed but laughing Brian. The brown-eyed boy perked up instantly, and he settled back into his seat after an exaggerated bow to everyone else in the hall.

_Boys, it's a wonderful thing._

Cloud ate quickly after that - partly because there wasn't much time left to the lunch hour, and partly to appear busy so he wouldn't get bombarded with questions. He was questioned anyway, but after reassuring them that he was fine and that all he'd gotten was a hairline fracture that had been healed with Materia, he resorted to just stuffing his face and pretending to be hungry so he wouldn't come across as rude. He was glad he was managing to keep the food down, and glad he'd been brave enough to come to the mess hall. The talk going on around the table was a welcome distraction from his earlier train of thought – and alright, so sue him but the way Brian was being bullied/teased by the others was _hilarious_. The kid was asking for it anyway, but more than that it almost seemed as though Brian wanted to be joked with like that – as though he knew that someone had to play the fool, the bumbling comic relief, and he was happy to do it if it meant that everyone would just get along. Cloud had met some of those types later in his travels – and instantly he was sorry for ever writing Brian Tranton off as the kind of average, normal kid who came from a happy family. He hadn't been doing him justice, but it seemed that Cloud hadn't been doing anyone justice in his memories. He would do better this time, he knew that. Everything held double weight now, because he'd lost it all before, and he wasn't going to lose anything ever again.

-----

The door was almost flung off its hinges as a Mako-enhanced porcupine burst in. Zack halted his path of destruction just before Sephiroth's table.

"So? Whaddya think?"

Sephiroth didn't bother looking up.

"You look very pretty, Zachary."

"I meant _Cloud_, idiot."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow and considered reminding Zack that he could be court-martialed for disrespecting a superior officer. Then he remembered what had happened the last time he'd tried – it was a waste of breath.

Zack was tapping his foot impatiently. Sephiroth considered letting him expend all his energy that way.

The General sighed, setting down his Mont Blanc pen and leaning back in his chair, clasping his hands loosely on the table and looking at Zack calmly. He indicated the abused leather chair and Zack threw himself into it – Sephiroth had considered messing with the bolts and screws so that Zack would fall over next time, but Zack would probably just sit on the floor and start chucking things at him if that happened. The man could always be counted on to do something ridiculous – take his squats for example.

Sephiroth took a moment to ponder his response. Strife had been…a surprise, to say the least. The blond had lost, but not too spectacularly. He'd held his own ground, despite the obvious pain and exhaustion – that spoke to a disposition that, while possibly naturally stubborn, was more one of determination and resilience honed by years of trial and tribulation. It was that more than anything that had impressed Sephiroth, and he wasn't easily impressed – Zack's abilities had barely raised an eyebrow until the Angeal fiasco, and only then did Sephiroth truly understand the depth of the younger man's talents.

"He is obviously skilled, and displays a natural affinity for swordsmanship." Sephiroth said at length, after Zack vibrated enough to put the Energizer Bunny to shame. The dark-haired man instantly stilled, leaning forward eagerly to hear the General's assessment of the little blond. "What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in speed and momentum. His form is remarkable, especially in one so young and developing. He will make a fine SOLDIER."

Zack grinned brilliantly enough to shame the sun. Sephiroth wondered why his subordinate was so invested in the cadet – it didn't seem as though Zack was attracted to the blond; he wasn't displaying his usual symptoms of infatuation or lust. He'd just have to trick the truth out of the other man. Sephiroth needed to keep his skills sharp – all this office work was going to turn him into Tuesti one day.

"Notice anything else?" Sephiroth's brow furrowed slightly. Zack was looking at him carefully, expression deliberately blank, eyes trained on his. What was he expecting? Sephiroth thought about it. He'd been in the observation room above the hall, behind a one-way mirror – his eyes had been trained on Strife since the blond entered the hall looking tense and deliberately ignoring Zack while he went to equip himself. Then the chaos started, but Strife's and his partner's hairstyles were distinctive enough to distinguish them from the brawling punks surrounding them. Sephiroth hadn't liked the look of the red-head for some reason, and he refused to admit that it was because the cadet's hair color reminded him of someone else. No, it was probably the way the slum kid fought – all dirty tricks and liquid sneakiness, not SOLDIER style at all. Sephiroth was quite glad the Turks were eyeing the boy – he didn't doubt the red-head's skills, but the boy wasn't SOLDIER material. He was just too…street.

Strife had been in complete control, and had actually maneuvered himself into a position where he could watch Zack. Sephiroth had wondered if it was because the cadet was simply another fan of the dark-haired SOLDIER, but there was something distinctly odd in the blond's expression – it wasn't awe, wasn't lust, wasn't adoration. For the briefest of moments, there had been a flash of fear in the boy's blue eyes, and that had been so completely out of place that Sephiroth's mind had kicked into overdrive. Zack wasn't a cruel man, despite his apparent callousness towards Sephiroth's bed-warmers. Zack would never hurt anyone intentionally – so why had the little cadet looked so terrified with Zack's attention on him?

The only logical conclusion was that the boy was hiding something. It made sense – the blond's jump in ability was suspicious, and no one had been able to explain it. Perhaps the cadet knew that Zack was investigating the matter – and that was why he was wary of the First. Which could only mean that he believed, for some reason, that Zack had either found something or was getting close to the truth. Sephiroth had gone over everything Zack had told him while waiting for his subordinate to return after seeing to Strife – there had been nothing in Zack's words or tone to indicate that he was any closer to an answer. But it seemed the blond believed that Zack was getting warm – either that or he was just afraid of Zack. While the dark-haired man was the most popular SOLDIER ever to join Shinra, he was also highly respected, and many other SOLDIERs avoided having to spar with Zack, because the man was quite deadly in a fight. But _why_ should a cadet from Nibelheim be afraid of Zack's prowess when the man wouldn't attack for no reason? There was something amiss, something afoot, and Sephiroth didn't know what it was. He'd thought everything through multiple times, but he'd come no closer to a satisfactory solution than Zack had. It was frustrating, but at the same time it was intriguing – Sephiroth liked puzzles, liked challenges, it was why he kept watching and re-watching CSI after all – and he was determined to solve this case. But first, he needed solid evidence – all that he and Zack had collected so far were theories and observations. Some more in depth investigation was needed, and there was only one way to do it.

Zack was still looking at him, knee bouncing slightly in impatience. Sephiroth stared at him impassively.

"Strife could do with some one-on-one training. He needs to work on his strength, and familiarize himself with his own body – he is fluid enough now, but he is still growing, and some personal time with you might do him good."

Zack blinked, then flashed pearly whites at the silver-haired man.

"You read my mind, Seph!" The man was making the _chair_ bounce, Sephiroth noted with some amusement. Zack was so energetic he could make everything around him vibrant and full of life. Well, _almost_ everything – Sephiroth was still holding out.

Then the First hesitated, and Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him.

"…you didn't notice anything else that was odd about the kid?" Sephiroth recognized that combination of tone and look. Zack wanted advice and reassurance.

_Far be it from me to deny Angeal's puppy_.

He scowled internally. He wasn't going to think about him. Sephiroth focused his attention on Zack, noting that the younger man was becoming quite immune to his extended stares. The wonders of youth.

"He seemed a little wary of you." Sephiroth supposed he was glad that he could give something positive to Zack, instead of just being the reason that the younger man had lost his mentor and friend. He wasn't the _only_ reason, he knew, but he had had a long time to think about it, and he still couldn't completely convince himself that there was nothing he could have done to stop it. "He also appeared to be attempting to hide his abilities. I agree that there is something inherently suspicious about the boy. You may continue your observations and investigation." Not that Zack would have stopped even if Sephiroth ordered him to, but it was the principle of the thing.

Zack beamed at him. "Thanks, Seph."

Sephiroth nodded, then turned back to the files in front of him. The cadets had to enter battle simulation at least once a fortnight, and it was only because Zack and Kunsel and some of the other Firsts had somehow wreaked havoc on all three of the cadet training arenas – _what_ they were doing there when they had their own training rooms was beyond him - that Sephiroth now had to approve the use of one of the more exclusive training grounds. He was trying to decide if the amphibious assault arena would be more advantageous to their training as opposed to the night-time incursion dome. From what he'd seen, most of the boys were still too immature to work as a cohesive unit – but he _had_ noticed how several cadets seemed to defer to Strife. Perhaps it would be in his best interests to keep a close eye on the cadet after all, Sephiroth realized. The boy was obviously something of a natural leader, and seemed to have earned the respect of the others. His authority would come in handy on training missions, and Sephiroth would have less paperwork to deal with if fewer cadets were injured whilst in training.

It seemed Strife was good for more than providing a challenge after all.

_Boom_.

-----

On Wednesday the cadets entered hand-to-hand class with some apprehension. While they were eager to see the Brigadier General again, they were also aware that they were still only in training and rather woefully inept. If even someone as skilled as Cloud – and they had to admit that he _was _skilled – had gotten a beating, what could they hope to do other than provide some comedic relief?

There was no Zack in the hall, and Reno was pretty sure the sighs were a mixture of relief and disappointment. As it was, they weren't having free-sparring. It seemed Jeffries had some new style he wanted to teach them – Keysi Fighting Method. Reno had heard of it – heck, he knew most of the moves by heart, it was wicked useful in the slums – and he was looking forward to topping the class in this. Cloud's reign was over – at least here. Reno didn't doubt that the blond could wallop anyone in sword fighting, but Cloud had never struck him as the type to get really up close and personal. No, the blond was more the 'stay-the-fuck-away-from-me' kinda guy - unless they were actually fucking.

They ran through some light stretching while Jeffries bellowed out the basics to them – it was all terribly boring to Reno, who could have taught this class blindfolded. He amused himself with watching the others, Cloud in particular, and was surprised to note that the blond cadet seemed to have zoned out. Did Cloud already know KFM? It was highly unlikely – the kid was from Nibelheim, the most Boondocky place in all the Planet – and yet, now that he thought about it, it did seem as though Cloud himself was highly trained in close combat. Reno had been slightly impressed with the smaller cadet – Cloud had fought dirty, fast, and furious – just like him. It certainly provided a challenge to Reno here in training; he always ended up dropping his opponents within thirty seconds of a fight because they fought by the book and he most definitely didn't. It seemed Cloud himself had few scruples when it came to winning – and Reno liked that. It had certainly bumped the blond up several notches on his 'Cool Cat' scale.

But prior to the whole Matt-thing, Cloud had always been awful at any type of physical combat. So where had the sudden skill come from? Reno was tempted to chalk it up to the boost in confidence – all the training in the world wouldn't help if you didn't believe you could pull it off successfully – but then where had the confidence come from? Reno hadn't paid much attention to the kid before, and he regretted it a little now – perhaps watching Cloud closely in the past would have helped him sort out this confusion. The red-head admitted he'd made a mistake before, writing Cloud off as a no-talent nobody, and it was very unlike him. Reno was good at reading people, had _had_ to be, because his keen observation of subtle changes in expression had saved his hide more times than he could remember.

_Nobody's perfect._

Jeffries was rounding up the brief lecture by giving a quick demonstration of the moves they would be running through today - Sergeant Mendez had been borrowed from sword-training because he'd grown up in the KFM capital - and Cloud appeared to be coming back to reality. Reno quickly shifted slightly so that he was closer to the blond – he wanted to be paired with Cloud again, if only because it would help him better observe the kid. Brian looked like he wanted to open his mouth and declare himself Cloud's partner, but Reno just glared at him. Then Jeffries gave a whistle, and the red-head turned to Cloud, only to be beaten to the punch by Ray.

Did the brunette want to lisp for the rest of his life?

Reno huffed irritably, turning and snagging Ralph for a partner. Jared had pretty much latched onto Brian and was dragging him off to the mats – Reno's lips twitched a little at the look of horror on Tranton's face. Jared was remarkably adept at getting under Brian's skin – the blond always seemed to be at his most perverted around the brown-haired boy, if only because Brian was such a prude.

Cloud and Ray were already assuming their ready positions, so Reno quickly claimed the spot next to Ray – he could observe pretty well from this angle. The whistle blew, and they started – Brian clocking Jared hard in the chin because he'd misjudged the angle for his elbow-strike. To the blond's credit, he simply shrugged it off – Jared might have come across as a sex-crazed maniac, but the kid had some serious mojo.

Reno was having a blast – Ralph was still trying to get a feel for the techniques, since KFM involved a lot of quick-thinking and close-quarter combat, completely unlike the mindless katas they had been taught so far – so the red-head allowed his eyes to drift to Cloud and Ray. It seemed they both knew what they were doing, which surprised Reno for two reasons – firstly, Ray was a seriously loaded kid from Junon, the kind that had grown up with a platinum spoon in his mouth, so how the hell had he gotten so good at these street skills?; and secondly, Cloud looked as though he'd been doing these moves his entire life. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation – it was all smooth, easy motions, as though the blond and Ray had done this dance a million times before.

_What the hell?_

Reno's curiosity had reached a peak higher than Mt Nibel.

It wasn't hard to understand why the cadets were being trained in such street-fighting techniques. It was meant to bring their basic katas closer to reality, as well as to teach them to think on their feet. KFM was especially good at this – heck, it _was _an intelligent style of combat after all. Reno was glad that Shinra wasn't actually stupid enough to fool themselves into believing that cadets could take on training missions with their dumb by-the-book squabbling techniques. He had been growing bored with classes, bored with training, and it was only the dream of donning that dark suit one day that had kept him in camp. He was especially looking forward to the free-sparring sessions that utilized KFM – it was gonna be a helluva party.

He kept a close eye on Cloud throughout the class, and was very surprised when the blond turned to look at him while staying perfectly in rhythm with Ray. That took some serious skill – to find the flow of the fight and be able to control it while looking elsewhere. Reno was impressed. Cloud was up another notch on the Cool-Cat Scale.

Cloud raised an eyebrow at him, and Reno just smirked back.

_GOD, I'm fly._

"Do the two of you have to eye-fuck all the fucking time?"

Reno and Cloud turned to look at Ralph, who just looked incredibly amused despite also looking incredibly gross – they all looked disgusting; it had been raining during PT and all of them were covered in mud from the fields. Reno still wasn't used to these sky-showers – in the slums, whenever you felt something wet hitting your head it was usually either leaky pipes or someone upstairs pissing on you (_leaky pipes_). The first time he'd gotten caught in the rain up on the plate, he'd nearly freaked out and lost it – he'd kept looking up trying to find the dick that was using him as a urinal.

"Jealous, Ralphy-boy?" Ray was grinning slightly; his lip healed enough to make him sound normal when he spoke. He made eyes at the other boy.

Ralph just rolled his eyes.

"I'm surrounded by wankers."

Reno spotted Cloud's lip twitching slightly in amusement, and he said what the blond was probably holding himself back from saying.

"Not all of us need to _wank_, sugar." He followed it up with a wink and swift knee to Ralph's side. The other cadet 'oof-ed' and glared at Reno as he straightened, spinning around and attempting to elbow the red-head in the side of his head. Reno just dodged it. They had been given a set number of moves by Jeffries, but to familiarize themselves with the new style of fighting they were allowed to play around with them as the situation saw fit – it certainly made class more interesting.

Cloud was smiling slightly at the display – he and Ray hadn't managed to hit each other yet, although Reno doubted it had anything to do with lack of skill. Cloud simply wasn't the type to beat someone up for no reason – and the red-head didn't think the blond counted 'for shits and giggles' as a valid justification for violence. Cloud was too cool for that.

"What're you guys doing this weekend?" Ray asked suddenly.

"Don't you mean '_who_' are they doing this weekend?" Trust Jared to jump in with his usual perverted one-liners from his position on the other side of Ray. Reno snorted in amusement, then had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the expression of sheer horror on Brian's face. The kid was _way _too sheltered. Once upon a time, Cloud had been the same.

_But he isn't anymore._

Dammit, Reno wasn't going to get a boner in Jeffries' class.

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini._

As it was, Reno missed the first part of Cloud's response.

"…the plate."

Ralph was nodding. "I haven't actually been under the plate before. Mind if I tag along?"

_Not unless you're joining in_.

Reno wondered how Cloud would react to that. Brian would probably have a heart attack.

Cloud just shrugged, flicking his eyes to Reno. Ray snorted.

"Never pegged you for the threesome type, Ralphy."

Ralph just glared at Ray. "You've been spending too much time with Jared, Junon-quack."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Rocket-boy."

_Boys._

Reno was a little amused though. It was welcome entertainment – considering he was already well-versed in KFM. Jeffries was on the other side of the hall shrieking at some poor kid to fight like a _man _and not a _cock _– the avian kind, Reno assumed.

He could tell Cloud was definitely amused with the proceedings – he had an indulgent little half-smile on his lips, the kind that the elderly had while reminiscing and watching the vagaries of today's youth. The red-head wondered for the hundredth time just _when _Cloud Strife had turned into such an old man with a boy's face. He wasn't any closer to figuring out this puzzle, but he was surprised that, as the days passed, he was beginning to become more interested in just being _friends _with the blond. It was outrageous. Reno had never thought he'd have friends here, not when he was the only hood rat to have rocked up to the Recruitment Drive, but there it was. Cloud's little attitude adjustment had opened up a Whole New World – and suddenly Reno had not one, but _five_ partners-in-crime (he counted Brian as the plucky comic relief). His earlier posse was all but discarded, and they had, for the most part, assimilated themselves into whatever other cliques were going around – but Cloud's burgeoning reputation was causing more and more to join their little 'group' day by day, and Reno was tempted to start charging membership fees.

He should have majored in business.

"I'm coming." Did Jared have to make _every _statement sexual?

Reno bit his lip harder and fought back the laughter. Jeffries was making his way down the line towards them, and Reno wasn't going to attract the Staff Sergeant's attention for having fun in class. The Sergeant was the kind of guy who wanted all of them scowling and grunting 24/7 – apparently it was the only way to make them Manly Men.

"Me too, sweetie." Ray was grinning. Brian looked horrified, but he managed to squeak out a thin "Can I come too?".

"Oh, _yes_." Ray, Ralph, Jared, and Reno chorused, grinning like idiots.

Cloud just shrugged, and it was pretty obvious that the blond was fighting back his laughter. Jeffries was getting closer and none of them wanted to be put on weekend duty – somehow it _always_ involved tooth-brushing urinals that were filled with proofs of Friday night's alcoholic indulgences.

The Staff Sergeant stopped right behind Reno. The red-head was getting seriously weirded out. He didn't like having someone so close to him yet so out of sight – it was too vulnerable, it put him in too much danger; and he longed to lash out; barely succeeding in controlling the instinctive urge to shoot first and talk later.

Jeffries didn't say anything for a long time, but the six of them felt the weight of his stare keenly even though they didn't once acknowledge him. Mendez had stopped behind Brian, and that had just made the cadets tense even more.

At length Jeffries broke the tense silence, and Reno nearly spun around and socked him because he was _that_ tightly wound.

"Good work, boys."

Cloud was the first to recover – the blond hadn't looked too pressured by the sergeants' presence, had simply looked as though he disliked being watched so closely - he offered a quiet "Thank you, Sir", which nudged the others into responding as well.

Once Jeffries and Mendez wandered off and started insulting the crap out of other cadets, the innuendo-filled banter started again.

It was the best class Reno had ever had in cadet training.

-----

When it was announced on Thursday that the cadets would be put in the amphibious assault arena the next day, there was a great deal of cheering. Battle Simulation meant _no PT_.

Cloud didn't know whether to be happy that he wouldn't have to see Gunny Payne's ugly face or disappointed because he wouldn't be able to get more training in. He remembered that Battle Simulation was usually more tiring and physical than PT though, so he supposed it was alright. He was rather looking forward to doing more than just running around a track anyway – while AVALANCHE had been more guerilla-tactics, at least he could experience the high that came from being in a combat situation again. It was a rush, and Cloud had come to love it.

The cadets were in Basics of Improvised Explosive Devices class – it seemed terrorists were remarkably fond of such tools. Cloud had been a bit upset when he'd realized that the terrorists the instructor was referring to were AVALANCHE members, but then he reminded himself that he had been involved in blowing up reactors too. It had dampened his mood considerably, so he welcomed the news of Battle Sims.

Reno was grinning and talking to Ray about how fun it was going to be getting all down and dirty and wet. Cloud was amused – it seemed they had all decided to pervert Brian by the end of training, or at least make him stop reacting to their sexual innuendos. He himself had never made lewd jokes, but Cid and Barret and the future Reno had told him so many that he supposed he was probably very good at them himself.

He wondered how they were doing, if they had even realized he was missing yet. Or maybe he wasn't missing – maybe his older body was going through the motions while he attempted to fix things here in the past. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if his fifteen year old self had taken over his much older body. His reputation would be in tatters faster than Cid could chug a beer.

He'd been planning on visiting Aeris this weekend, but now that the other boys were all planning a field trip down under the plate he didn't know if he would be able to slip away. On the one hand he missed her terribly; but on the other hand he had never actually hung out with a group of guys his age before – Cid, Barret, and Vincent were all older than him, and their get-togethers usually involved alcohol or saving the world. He didn't really know what teenaged boys did when they went out as a group, but he was eager to learn. He'd missed out on so much before, and even though he felt a little selfish because he was putting his own enjoyment over Aeris, he really wanted to experience the joys of friendship without the threat of Armageddon hanging over him. He knew she'd understand, but he sent a quick prayer to the Lifestream anyway. Aeris didn't have Tifa's temper or fists, but the Cetra had her way of getting even – it usually involved nightmares and guilt-trips and Ancient-induced headaches. Cloud felt a little bad for thinking that Aeris had been trying to get even with him because he'd failed her – she had always told him that she'd never blamed him – but he was too used to feeling like he was being punished for his weakness.

_Stop thinking about it. Things are different now._

It was true that things were different. Cloud was actually having _fun_, for probably the first time in his life outside of swinging First Tsurugi around and riding Fenrir like a maniac; and he had friends who weren't with him just because they'd kicked some evil butt together. It felt good, but at the same time it was _horrible_. Because now Cloud had so much more to lose than ever before. He hadn't seen Zack since he'd left the infirmary on Tuesday, but Reno and Ray claimed to have spotted the SOLDIER during some of their theory classes. Cloud doubted he'd see Zack in hand-to-hand or sword-training unless the First wanted his presence known – he knew about the observation rooms above the hall, had heard Zack mention them before. He didn't know if the other man was still watching him, waiting for him to let something slip, but he doubted Zack had given up trying to figure him out yet. Reno seemed to have lost some interest in that pursuit, for which Cloud was glad. Being on guard 24/7 was tiring – he was used to being wary of enemy attacks when he was alone, but whenever he was around people – especially AVALANCHE members – he tended to relax his guard. It was all Tifa's fault.

"Earth to Cloud?" He jerked slightly, grateful for years of control that kept him from lashing out instinctively at Jared's grinning face. He just raised an eyebrow at the other blond.

"Who, or _whose,_ were you thinking of, huh?" Jared was _such _a pervert, but Cloud didn't mind. The other boy was smart and good in a fight – if he remembered correctly Jared actually _had_ made SOLDIER; or at least the other cadet hadn't joined him in the regulation army.

Cloud just looked at him impassively. "Yours."

Reno, Ray, and Ralph just wolf-whistled. Brian was looking at Cloud like he'd grown another head – it seemed the Kalm boy had been hoping that Cloud would be his Companion in Proper Behavior. Poor kid.

Jared was leering. "Soon, baby." He followed it up with an exaggerated wink and Cloud's lips twitched. He was enjoying himself a lot, he realized, and a part of him wouldn't stop shrieking about how he had to stop having fun, he couldn't afford to let loose, he couldn't afford to believe that he deserved this; because he was weak, useless, a failure, an almost-person, an incomplete copy. He shoved it aside ruthlessly.

_Fuck you._

Cloud had tried the whole not-letting-people-in thing before. It hadn't worked, because he hated being alone. Tifa had Final Heaven'd her way in anyway, and the others had followed in her wake. Cloud had to admit, he was rather used to having friends, knowing that there were people around somewhere who would always welcome his company and who were always happy to spend time with him no matter how morose he was. It had been one of the few things in his adult life that he had actually liked – it helped somewhat with the pain.

_Quit being such a damned pussy._

Alright, he'd admit it. He was fucking terrified. Making friends with the other cadets was a new, novel experience; but he was an _adult _for crying out loud. He'd been the most respected and most feared fighter on the entire Planet, and here he was worried he wouldn't be able to get along with others his own age. He was already doing a pretty good job anyway, just being his usual self, so he wasn't going to change it or stop now. Not when he'd finally gotten a taste of what it really meant to be a teenager.

Sometimes it was nice to just act his shoe-size and not his age. Time enough to freak out about the End of Days during quiet-time; if anything his life had taught him to live in the moment, because the next minute someone might go insane and burn everything to the ground.

_Stop thinking about him._

Cloud hadn't seen the General since that day in the hallway, but from what he could remember of his cadet days nobody saw the General unless by accident or at some ceremony or parade. It didn't make the yearning go away though – the knowledge that the man was here somewhere; alive, sane, and as ridiculously gorgeous as ever.

_STOP IT._

Cloud really needed to get a grip. He had never really been interested in explosives – sword-fighting was so much more his style – but he needed to at least pay attention so that he could finish his homework before the others jumped in and stole it off him. It was a nightly routine now – most of his bunk would just copy practically all of the answers off his notes while he either explained stuff to them or just sat there reading a text-book. He had never been a know-it-all, but he was used to being the one that everyone turned to for help. And at least this way he was earning himself more points with some of the other boys who had thought him a wimpy loser turned arrogant revenge-seeking bastard. He had just never been the friendliest or most talkative of people, and he was glad that others were beginning to see that and not chalk his taciturn nature up to him thinking he was all that. Cloud supposed his association with Reno and the others was only helping make him seem more likeable – after all, Reno, Ray, Ralph, and Jared were four _very_ popular cadets. Brian had always been the Average Joe type, and seeing him in their circle had raised more than a few eyebrows, but Cloud didn't give a damn. Once upon a time, _he'd_ been the out-cast, and he would never reject someone just because they weren't remarkable. Besides, Brian was pretty intelligent, if a bit prudish and stiff; but more importantly his heart was in the right place, and that meant more to Cloud than a hot body or a cool attitude.

"He's gone cloudy again." Ralph sounded amused. Cloud glanced at him, and seeing the grin on the other cadet's face brought an answering half-smile to his lips – inwardly he was surprised at how easy it was for him to smile here, but he supposed it had something to do with knowing that he had it in his power to stop so many terrible things from happening, and knowing that he could actually have fun doing it. He wondered what Tifa would say if she saw him now.

"We're getting the mission objectives tonight. Teams of six to ten." Ray supplied helpfully, realizing that Cloud had probably completely zoned out when their instructor had informed them of this. Cloud gave him a grateful look. He hadn't been listening, had heard the words 'Battle Simulation' and gone off into his own little world. He really needed to work on that.

"Wonder what method of insertion we're using." Jared winked at Brian, who just squawked. Poor kid. The others were stifling their laughter, and Cloud allowed himself a small smirk as he jotted down a summary of the rather lengthy explanation written on the board in the instructor's _awful _hand-writing. He squinted slightly. Some words were nearly impossible to make out, and he could only be thankful that he had his own experience as a terrorist to help him decipher the terms. Someone needed one of those 'Let's Learn to Write' books.

"Still, it's pretty cool, huh? Using SOLDIER Battle Sims arenas." Ralph was leaning against Reno's chair, one arm behind the red-head who was slouched back looking bored out of his mind with the theory on how to spot IEDs – Reno definitely had a lot of experience hiding and seeking weapons, and Cloud remembered that the red-head knew his way around explosives too. He refused to dwell on the memory of Jesse's crushed body.

_SOLDIER arenas?_

Cloud definitely didn't remember _this_.

He looked to Ray for clarification. The brunette obliged, unable to resist looking amused with Cloud.

"Our usual training grounds are down for maintenance – which, as we all know, is Shinra-speak for 'It's Gotten Fucked' – so the General's approved us for one of the SOLDIER arenas. Great, huh? The Man himself is letting us into his _playground_." At that last statement, Ray turned to Brian and grinned wolfishly. Cloud was glad the others were focused more on enjoying themselves at Brian's expense – at the mention of Sephiroth his heart had leapt up to snuggle between his teeth.

_Sephiroth approved the use of a SOLDIER arena by cadets? That's not like him at all._

The General would never trust cadets with anything related to SOLDIER until they actually passed their exams. It had been obvious in the way he'd treated Cloud during the Nibelheim mission – he wasn't arrogant or unkind, but he just required proof of ability before he trusted anyone with anything. So why would he give the green light to this..?

_FUCK._

Cloud remembered Reno saying that Zack was "The General's Right-Hand Man". Which meant that if Zack had been running around trying to find out stuff about Cloud and watching him and beating him up, that meant that Sephiroth was probably involved or at least advised of it. Cloud wondered if it was egoistical of him to assume that cadets using SOLDIER Battle Sims was due in part to little ol' Spiky.

_Get a grip._

It had _nothing_ to do with him. _He_ didn't know Cloud; had probably forgotten all about him already. Cloud brutally squashed the little flutter of _something_ _idiotic_ in his chest and focused on copying the instructor's notes. Tonight he'd have to read the mission pack, so he had to get his work done now. No time to think about the impossible. No point reaching for the stars if you're just gonna get mud on your face anyway.

He made out his notes in record time, and Reno somehow managed to snag them as they were being dismissed by Corporal O'Neil. As they made their way to the mess hall, there was more excited chatter than even Zack's appearances had caused. Battle Sims was the highlight of their training because it was so unregimented and spontaneous – that, and it only occurred once every two weeks, which made it all the more special. Not to mention that they, the cadets, lowest of the low in the military food-chain, _they _were getting to use the training grounds that Real Bad-Ass SOLDIERs used. It was all cause for celebration. Cloud was just glad for the noise that was keeping him from dwelling on stupid things.

In the dining hall the mission packs were handed out – fat little envelopes filled with facts and objectives for their little pseudo-war. Cloud himself was getting caught up in the anticipation and excitement – how could he not? He had led a team of kick-ass fighters all over the world to battle the Freak That Fell, and now he was getting to experience the thrill of battle in a controlled environment, where it didn't matter if you got 'shot' or if you 'failed' – well, it _did_ matter a little but no one really gave a damn. Battle Sims = Party Time, and that was that.

Apparently his opinion was irrelevant. Reno and the others made him CO of the group – with another four boys joining them to make ten in total. Cloud wondered if this was another ploy of the red-head's to get him to let slip some clues, but looking at how relaxed Reno was while chatting with Jared about the 'mission', he doubted it.

So what then? Why the hell had they elected him leader of their little 'platoon'?

Cloud was going to get a migraine at this rate. It was just like before – when he hadn't really understood why he'd been made leader of AVALANCHE.

_Oh goddammit._

He was just going to go with the flow. Seize the day and all that jazz. It would be nice to win though – the other cadets usually gave way and let the victors jump in the showers first. And considering they would probably have the obstacle course after their amphibious assault simulation, the perks of being Top Dog were rather tempting.

Cloud looked down at the papers in his hand and read over the objectives again, smirking slightly.

_Too easy._

*****

A/N (1): I don't know if anyone noticed, but I have been using the Marines as a sort of parallel to the cadets and SOLDIERS – the "oo-rah" mentioned here and in chapter 2, the ranking system, and the "bull-ring" mentioned in this chapter. I have always likened the regulation army to Marine grunts, Third Class to SEALS, Second Class to Green Berets, and First Class to Delta Force. I mean no disrespect whatsoever.

A/N (2): The phrase "bruised and broken and bleeding – in a word: dead" comes from Batman Forever – the scene in the Big Top where Two-Face announces that he wants Batman "Bruised, broken, bleeding. In a word: Dead."

A/N (3): Sephiroth and loneliness – can anyone say Denial? I've avoided writing from his POV because I needed to get the tone right. Hope I succeeded – bear in mind I'm basing this Sephiroth off what I know of the earlier parts of Crisis Core.

A/N (4): I am making reference to the game KKND (Krush Kill N Destroy) in the sword-fight when Cloud is filled with the need to "crush, kill, and destroy."

A/N (5): "The blade isn't the only part of the sword" – a reference to the scene in Kingdom of Heaven where Balian is being schooled by Godfrey in the Art of Combat.

A/N (6): I used to be a Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles fan as a kid – can't forget the "totally awesome!" phrase – which is why I used it in Reno's part after the sword-fight.

A/N (7): Yes, you read right. Dr House. I'm not actually a fan, but the man's got _style_.

A/N (8): The Keysi Fighting Method was used in Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. There are a lot of Batman references in this chapter.

A/N (9): Almost 24,000 words again. A few 'action' sequences – just because I felt like it was butt kicking time, not butt ******* time.

A/N (10): That's a lot of author's notes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Almost Karma**

**By BluWhispers**

**Chapter 5**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.

**Warnings:** Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

**A/N (1):** **Risikaa** – I told you I'd use that line.

**A/N (2):** **Johnswinona** – You might wanna put your water bottle away to save your keyboard. Although I didn't feel very funny this time so it might be safe.

**A/N (3):** I am graduating in August – I passed my finals! So here's another long chapter for you guys! Enjoy! (P.S.: The worshipping helps too lol – I love you guys).

*****

On Friday morning, Cloud was surprised to find Reno waiting for him when he was rounding up his private training on the tracks. He slowed to a stop, panting slightly because he'd pushed himself harder than usual given that they weren't having PT today, and his legs hurt, but he ignored them, walking on the spot and giving the other cadet a questioning look. It was still a few minutes before Reveille, and Reno liked his beauty sleep.

The red-head didn't say anything for awhile, just watching him with that unnerving stare that made Cloud itch to grab the nearest blunt object and smack Reno hard over the head. But he was an _adult_ now, thank you very much, so he just ignored the other boy in favor of cooling down before breakfast.

"You're pretty serious about SOLDIER, huh?" Reno finally broke the silence.

Cloud supposed it was about time the other cadet popped the question. He thought about his answer; the question seemed harmless enough to allow for a truthful response.

"Yeah," Cloud shrugged, stretching his hamstring. He glanced at the other cadet, surprised to find Reno looking off into the distance instead of at him. The red-head seemed to be thinking about something, if the far-away look in his eyes was any indication. Cloud wondered at that – but then again he supposed Reno must have his own reasons for joining cadet training, even if it probably _was_ just so that he could wear the Turk suit and shades one day.

At length Reno nodded. He didn't say anything else while waiting for Cloud to finish his stretches, and he walked in silence next to the blond as they headed to the bunk for Cloud to grab a fresh tee. The others were already in the bathrooms prettying themselves up for Battle Sims, so the two of them weren't pestered with questions, making it to the mess hall and eating in relative peace until the rest of the cadets joined them.

"We're teaming with Bunkers 4, 5 and 8." Ray said as he sat down next to Cloud. The blond nodded at him, wondering how the brunette always managed to stay so well-informed.

"Who we up against?" Ralph asked sleepily from Ray's other side.

"Bunkers 1, 2 and 9." Ray replied after inhaling two cups of coffee. Cloud wondered why everyone seemed so dependent on the watered-down caffeine – he himself enjoyed a cup every now and then, but only if it was the strong brew that Tifa made so perfectly. Cid's coffee was disgusting, he remembered – bitter and powdery. It was all he could do to take the first polite sip every time he visited Rocket Town.

"4 on 3?" Jared asked from next to Brian. It seemed his perverted mind was slightly less awake at zero-seven-hundred. Or maybe it was because the blond's usual target was still half-asleep and therefore no fun to needle.

Ray shrugged. "That's what I heard. No other bunker's claimed to be joining us – Scuttlebutt is Bunkers 3 and 6 got strapped with extra PT for pissing Payne off yesterday. Something about calling him a baboon-butt."

Reno choked on his third cup of coffee. "No shit?"

Ray grinned. "No shit. Think it was that Brad kid who said it – you know he thinks he's all that just coz his daddy's loaded."

Ralph snorted. "Said the pot about the kettle."

Ray just smiled sweetly, stealing one of Ralph's pancakes and stuffing the whole piece into his mouth. Cloud thought the brunette looked like a gorilla.

"So what's the plan?" Reno asked, rolling his eyes at Ray's and Ralph's daily display of affection.

Cloud paused, a forkful of pancakes and fake syrup an inch from his lips. He set it back down on the plate, thinking about his response. He knew exactly how they should attack, had memorized the map and committed the objectives (all two of them) to memory the night before, but he had to play the part of the inexperienced cadet as well, which made setting out a fool-proof plan a high-wire act at best, and a mine-field trickier than dating a bunny-boiler at worst.

"The objectives are to claim the bunker on the hill, and neutralize any and all enemies we encounter," he said at length. "Every other team will attempt to take the hill from the north side, since it offers the most cover. We could choose to go in with them, hope that the sheer size will afford some protection. Or we could go around the island and take the other teams by surprise."

"Backdoor entry?" Jared asked, grinning. "I _like _the way you think, Cloudy."

Cloud rolled his eyes. Sex was to Jared what cigarettes were to Cid.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth, Fontaine?" Ray was grinning, Brian having woken up somewhat. It was Rape Tranton's Ears Time.

"No, but I kissed yours, Johnson." Jared smirked.

Ray raised his eyebrows. Cloud heard Ralph groan.

_Throw-down._

Before the "yo' mama" lines could start in earnest, a whistle sounded, and all the cadets turned to look at the instructors who had entered the mess hall carrying clipboards. They scrambled to their feet, only to receive a barked "as you were", and resumed their seated positions.

"Listen up, ladies!" Staff Sergeant Jeffries bellowed. "Bunkers 4, 5, 7, and 8 are the Blue Team. Bunkers 4 and 5 will be delivered by parachute and gliders, the drop site is 20 yards north-east of the beachhead. Bunkers 7 and 8 will have a 5 minute head-start – you boys will be sea-landing, so be prepared to row your boats, and Don't Fuck Up." He looked at Cloud's table as he said this, but the expression on his face was one of pride. Cloud wondered again at the Staff Sergeant's apparent fondness for him.

"Bunkers 1, 2, and 9 are the Red Team. You boys will be backed by eight SOLDIER Thirds." At this the Red Team cheered, while the Blue Team freaked. Cloud himself sat impassive – he'd been expecting something like this. The General wouldn't send a team of cadets in handicapped – at least not until the last month of training. He didn't trust them enough to hold their own just yet.

Cloud scowled mentally. _You think you know him so well, don't you?_

A discreet elbow to his side from Ray had him jerking back to reality. The brunette seemed to have expected his zoning out – Cloud thought with some amusement. So this was what it felt like to have friends.

"…will be stationed in and around the bunker. You boys have 20 minutes to name your individual squads, head to the arena, and grab your packs." With that, Jeffries nodded at them, and two other instructors started walking around the mess hall handing out clipboards for the squads to fill in. Cloud accepted the board that was shoved into his hands by a very excited Brian, pulling the pen out from under the clip and starting to scribble down the names of his team mates.

Around him, the others were talking labels while hastily finishing their breakfasts. He listened with half an ear, trying his best to remember everyone's last names.

"What about 'Rambo'?" Ralph suggested.

"Rainbow?" Ray looked at him.

Ralph just rolled his eyes. "Quit being such a poofter. I said 'Rambo' not 'Rainbow' – you know, the dude with the red bandanna and the serious fire-power?"

"Wasn't he gay?" Jared looked up at that comment.

Ralph scowled. "The hell's _that _gotta do with anything?"

Ray's brow furrowed. "No idea."

Cloud just rolled his eyes. _Reno… no-last-name. Right._

"Banana?" Jared volunteered. Cloud swallowed a laugh – the blond was _way _too obscene.

"I don't see any bananas," Brian said, looking around. At the amused snorts from the others, he flushed slightly, glaring at Jared.

Cloud was tempted to say "AVALANCHE", but he figured he'd get into plenty of trouble with the SOLDIERs if he did, so he just continued writing while keeping an eye on the proceedings at his table.

"X-Men!" Brian said enthusiastically, bouncing slightly in his seat.

Reno burst out laughing. "Are you for real, Tranton? This MARVEL or SOLDIER?"

Ray was grinning. "Batman!"

"No! Superman's better!" Ralph chimed in, leaning forward eagerly.

"Gotta love his panties." Jared said, smiling dreamily. Brian sputtered.

"Spiderman." Grant had decided to join in the fray. Cloud had never spoken to the other boy before, mostly because fifteen year old him had been scared shitless by the Corel boy's tree-trunk neck. The kid was built like a _tank, _but this older Cloud was slightly comforted by the resemblance to Barret.

The argument raged on for awhile more, and Cloud was almost done with the form when Ray turned to him.

"We'll let the CO decide," the brunette declared. Instantly the hairs on Cloud's neck stood up under the weight of nine pairs of eyes. He didn't want to have to choose between MARVEL and DC - it was a hairy, hairy issue.

"Fenrir," he blurted without thinking. He missed his baby.

"Fen-what?" Reno looked confused. Brian was scratching his head, looking like he was going through the Superhero Yellow Pages mentally.

Ray and Jared were nodding. "Fenrir, the killer wolf of myth. Nice." Ray sounded approving, and Cloud was glad. Heaven help anyone who insulted his pride and joy.

"OK, that's decided then," Ralph said, sounding only marginally disappointed. Cloud had never pegged the black-haired boy for a Superman fan – but mostly because he himself had never been a fan. Why read about a fictional Superman when there was General Sephiroth to look at – sans the red skivvies, of course. He was very proud of himself for holding back the blush that threatened to rise to his cheeks at the sudden mental image of the General in the infamous blue and red costume – complete with the proud 'S' on his chest, silver hair flying in the wind.

_Get a grip!_

He was becoming one of those rabid fans that he himself ran from in the future. Cloud shook his head. He needed to focus, and he needed to remember how to row a boat – he was too spoilt by Fenrir and Cid.

Names finally filled in, he signed the DD form for their gear and tucked the pen back under the metal clip and stood. The others followed suit and they filed out of the hall, Jared slinging an arm around Brian's shoulders playfully. The brown-haired cadet looked like he would have pushed Jared away if he wasn't so afraid that touching the blond recruit might be misconstrued. Poor kid.

They trooped to the arena, grabbing their packs and loading their assault rifles with paint-pellet magazines. Cloud wanted to laugh – this was turning into some Super Sweet Sixteen Party. Were they _really_ meant to take Battle Sims seriously with ammo that smelled like cheap watercolors? He didn't deny that it packed a punch though – he vaguely remembered getting hit square between the eyes by a paint-bullet once before and waking up in the infirmary a few hours later with a splitting headache. He handed his clipboard to Jeffries, who held his eyes for a very long moment before nodding and pointing him towards Door Five. Cloud saluted the sergeant, turning to gather the others. As they waited by the steel doors, he briefed them quickly on the course of action.

"We're heading around the island. There's a small inlet about 50 yards from the back of the bunker. It looks to be slightly hidden by an over-hanging rock on the map, but we're wide open if anyone knows to look. Hopefully the others will create enough of a ruckus to distract the Red Team." The others looked impressed, and Cloud wondered if he'd shown off too much. He doubted any of the other cadets had bothered to memorize the map.

"So we sneak up behind them and take 'em out?" Reno was grinning, hoisting his AK-47 on his shoulder and looking exactly like the Turk he would grow to be in future.

Cloud nodded. "That's the general idea. The SOLDIERs will more than likely station themselves in the control room of the bunker – they're pretty fortified in there. The other teams will probably be focusing on guarding the north hill, but there might be one or two cadets patrolling the south side, so we'll have to be careful."

"One minute!" Jeffries bellowed.

Cloud turned to his group, noting how Reno, Ray, Jared, Ralph, and Grant all seemed to be itching for action, while the others looked a little nervous at going up against full-fledged SOLDIERs. He tried to give them a reassuring smile, but he was pretty sure it came out more as a twisted smirk – so sue him but he got high off the thrill of battle; it had been a long time coming, and at least here the world wouldn't end if he failed.

"Select semi-automatic. Conserve your bullets. You know the range on these weapons. Make every shot count." He waited till he got confirmation nods before turning to face the metal doors. The thrum of anticipation was an old friend, and he welcomed it, allowing it to heighten his senses, but taking deep, even breaths to control his heart-beat. SOLDIERs had keen senses after all, and it wouldn't do for his team to thunder their arrival. Might as well just race up the hill waving a bright pink flag. He shifted slightly, adjusting the strap of his ILBE pack – he knew they carried them for practice, to get used to the weight, but that didn't make it any less annoying. For them right now it was just 50 pounds of dead-weight – except for the three liters of water, which would come in handy if Battle Sims dragged on as it usually did.

"Wait, wait!" Brian suddenly exclaimed.

"What is it NOW, Tranton?" Cloud didn't have to look back to know that Reno was rolling his eyes at the brown-haired boy.

"We gotta huddle and cheer first! It's tradition!" Cloud was glad he was facing the door, because he was pretty sure he was gaping like a fish.

_Is he serious?_

"Are you for real?! The hell do we look like? Cheerleaders?" Reno was definitely scowling at the other cadet, if his tone of voice was any indication.

"I think you'd look good in a skirt," Jared reassured him sweetly.

_I know __**I**__ did._

Cloud kicked himself mentally. He wasn't going to think about Corneo _now_, of all times. He shuddered internally – he'd never quite gotten over that lustful gaze and the memory of the stupid dress he'd had to wear. He turned to face the others. Everyone was glaring at Brian, but the boy was not to be cowed – he was looking at Cloud expectantly, as though waiting for their CO to back him up. Cloud sighed.

"All in." He held out his hand, resolutely ignoring how idiotic he felt. He wondered if Brian was in any way related to Yuffie – she'd always been the most ra-ra of the group.

"You're not gonna say 'Leave no man behind', are you?" Ray teased, placing his hand on top of Cloud's. The others reluctantly joined in, Reno and Ralph looking around before quickly shoving their hands into the huddle. Cloud just rolled his eyes.

"On three." Alright he _definitely_ felt like an idiot now.

Ray was grinning, and Brian looked like Christmas had come early. Reno just looked suicidal.

"One, two, three." Cloud was waiting for someone to _just_ _shoot him now_.

"OO-RAH!"

The whistle sounded, and the doors opened. Cloud quickly turned and walked in, climbing into the boat and grabbing a paddle. He could feel his cheeks burning and he resolutely ignored the others as they scrambled into the flimsy wooden vessel, Reno quickly grabbing the spot next to Cloud's. Cloud wondered if the red-head knew how to row – they'd had a class on it before, if he remembered correctly, but not many had actually paid attention since most SOLDIERs were deployed by choppers, and no one really cared how the regulation army got dropped off.

"Good to go?" He asked, readying the oar. When the affirmative came, he sank it into the murky water and started paddling.

They reached the beach in less than two minutes, due mostly to Grant's Hulk-like arms. As they dragged their boat up the beach, Cloud turned to take stock of the situation. The other sea-landing teams were still a ways behind them, which meant that it would be another few minutes before the air-drop teams arrived. He looked up at the bunker, noting how the Red Team wasn't exactly bothering to camouflage themselves given that they occupied higher ground and had SOLDIERs backing them up. They weren't bothering to fire yet though, as Cloud's team was still too far away. He turned back to his team mates.

"Alright. We wait for the others to arrive and distract them before we make our way around the island." Reno was grinning, trigger-happy as always, and Cloud wanted to smile.

_Some things never change._

The other boats docked just as the air-drop teams were arriving on the island. As soon as the entire Blue Team was assembled, the horn sounded and The Party Started. Cloud wanted to roll his eyes at the stupidity of the other cadets – did they _really_ think just charging up the hill was going to help them claim the bunker?

He looked around. Their distraction had arrived, so now the only question was how to reach the other side of the wannabe-island without getting spotted?

-----

"This is either genius or madness."

Reno grinned. "It's funny how often those two traits coincide."

The ten of them were attempting to move in come semblance of co-ordination while wading through the water, holding an up-turned row-boat over their heads in an attempt to shield themselves from eyes and stray shots, their assault rifles stretched across their shoulders. Reno felt like a crab. Cloud was in front, leading because none of them had any idea where they were going, and it seemed Cloud had been the only one to memorize the map they'd been given.

"Um…guys?" Brian asked timidly from behind Reno. He rolled his eyes. _What was it NOW? _

"What is it, Tranton?" Ray didn't even look back from his position next to Reno.

"I need to pee."

Reno tripped. He fell against Cloud, who had apparently been stunned into immobility by Brian's admission, and the blond fell forward, hitting his head against the front of the wooden boat with a solid _thunk._

_What the FUCK?_

"What?! Dude, what is _wrong _with you?! We only just started Battle Sims ten minutes ago and you gotta go _now_?!" Ralph was yelping as Reno righted himself. Cloud had turned around now, one hand propping up his end of the boat and the other rubbing his forehead.

The side of the boat clipped Reno on the side of his head, and he turned to glare at Ray, who was edging away looking warily at Brian.

"Oi! Quit moving, dipshit!" Reno sputtered, some of the foul water getting in his nose and mouth as the movements of the ten cadets caused their little shield to jerk and sway from side to side.

"I'm not hanging around for him to piss in the water!" Ray glared back at Reno and kept moving.

"Like this water's clean, anyway." Jared wasn't dropping perverted one-liners for once. "Go ahead, Brian. I'm pretty sure plenty other guys have pissed in here."

"What?! Why didn't you say so?!" Ralph's voice broke slightly in his panic. He'd started jumping up and down in an attempt to escape the murky mess surrounding them, but was succeeding only in causing more water to splash around them all as he hit his head against the boat.

Reno looked down in distaste. Just because he was from the slums didn't mean he bathed in piss.

_Gross!_

Cloud hadn't reacted yet, still rubbing his forehead and just standing there watching them freak out.

"I gotta go too," Jared announced.

"What is your problem?!" Ray had jerked away, taking the boat with him and causing Cloud, Reno, and everyone on their side to get hit on side of their heads. Cloud stumbled slightly, causing the front end of their shield to drop, and Reno cursed as he was bonked on the top of his head by the useless wooden vessel.

Everyone seemed to be freaking out, but Reno really hoped no one would just flip their cover over and run for it. He wanted to win, not get shot just because someone needed to go to the bathroom.

Jared was smiling sweetly at Tranton. "We can hold hands, Brian. You need help with your wee-wee?"

Brian shrieked, jerking away and causing the boat to hit everyone on Ray's side.

"Quit it!" Ray yelled, glaring Bloody Murder at the smaller cadet.

"Hold it till we get to the bay." Cloud finally said, giving them all a stern look that seemed to say _GROW UP._ Reno was quite tempted to declare that Brian had started it.

They continued then, Ralph sounding like he was hyperventilating at being inundated in piss-water.

"Hey, isn't this Marcus' boat?" Jared suddenly piped up from the back.

"What's that gotta do with anything?" Ray was still edging away from Reno's side, looking back at Brian warily every few seconds.

"Isn't he the kid with the gas problem?" Reno turned to glance back at the blond and nearly fell over laughing. Jared had his nose in the wooden slats that functioned as seats, and he was sniffing at them like they were some sexy SOLDIER's pants.

"Dude! What is WRONG with you?!" Ralph's voice broke for the second time that day.

"I'm just checking!" Jared glared at the black-haired boy.

Reno could see Cloud's shoulders shaking silently in mirth out of the corner of his eye.

_Woah, Blondie knows how to laugh?_

"Never pegged you for incontinence issues, Tranton." Ray was smirking slightly.

"Inconti-what?" Brian looked confused.

"He hasn't got it then," Ralph said.

Reno shook his head. It seemed no one was able to remain serious despite the fact that they were meant to be simulating an actual amphibious assault. Not that he could blame them – which kid didn't grow up playing war games?

_Speaking of which…_

He'd been surprised when Cloud had taken charge so easily, despite his protests last night. It seemed the blond was used to a leadership role, which was odd because when he'd first arrived at boot-camp the kid had been the wimpiest and most disregarded of the lot. Not only that, but Cloud had actually _memorized _the map they'd been given – Reno had barely spared the piece of paper a glance before going on to read the objectives. And Cloud's plan, while unconventional and ripped right off the silver screen, was still pretty well thought-out, especially considering they were just cadets and this was their first time in the amphibious assault arena. They usually stuck with the sand-box during Battle Sims, so this new course had thrown quite a few for a loop. Cloud had taken it all in stride, and Reno was sure he'd seen the blond smirking last night while reading the mission pack. He wondered if the kid had just played too many war-games when he'd been younger. He doubted it though – the Cloud Strife that had arrived boot-camp had been the out-cast type, the kind of kid whom no one wanted to play with except when a punching bag was needed. But here Cloud was, leading them into 'battle' as though he'd done it a hundred times before, and, alright, Reno couldn't get over this fact, he'd actually _memorized _the damned map. Who the hell did that?

_Batman. Duh. _

Reno had woken up early this morning, shaken out of slumber by a recurring nightmare that had driven him out of his bed. He'd noticed Cloud's was empty and turned down, so after washing up he'd wandered around looking for the blond cadet. When he'd spotted that familiar spiky head jogging around the track, he'd almost pinched himself. Who trained outside of classes? Bad enough they had PT every morning – what was _wrong_ with Spiky?

He'd headed down and waited, not knowing why he was there but just knowing that he wanted answers; he wanted to _understand_ this insane motivation of the other's. It reminded him of someone he used to know – this desire to be the best – and he didn't know how he felt about it. The competitive side of him was demanding to join Cloud every morning from now on, to take him on and beat him; but the other side of him was quite content to let the blond work out alone, thank you, because Reveille was early enough as it was. Reno liked his beauty sleep – it helped that here in the barracks he didn't have to worry about getting jumped in the middle of the night by some junkie looking for a good time or some chump change.

The others were still teasing Brian, and Reno was silently thankful that this wasn't a stealth mission. As it was the sounds of gunfire going on outside their wooden shell were pretty loud, and Reno wondered how the battle was going. They'd been in the water for a few minutes now, and he suddenly hoped that Cloud really _did_ know where he was headed. Wouldn't do for them to just wade all around the island and end up right where they'd started.

Suddenly the blond stopped. "We're here." Spiky's voice echoed in the up-turned boat as the others stopped messing around. They lifted the vessel slightly higher, and slid out from underneath, careful not to let the boat fall back and give away their position when it smacked the water. Reno looked around. They were indeed in a little inlet, with an over-hanging rock just above them. He was impressed, and he could tell Ralph was as well by the slight whistle the black-haired cadet gave.

"Secure the boat. Don't want it floating off and giving us away." Cloud gestured, and they started hauling the boat into the bay, turning it over and dragging it up slightly to bank on the sandy mound. "Anyone who needs to go, go now." His baby blues locked onto Brian and Jared, but the two had apparently decided they could hold it – either that or they had already gone in the water. Reno didn't want to think about _that_.

"Lock and load."

Reno grinned. _Let's get retarded._

-----

Cloud inched closer to the top of the hill, listening for any sounds of a patrol, but so far there had been nothing to indicate that they had anything to watch out for. It didn't hurt to be cautious though. He liked the thrill of battle precisely because it was the one simple thing in his life – kill or be killed, easy as that. Nothing else mattered; there was no need to be polite or thoughtful when the world narrowed to staring down the barrel of a gun or the length of a sword. It was uncomplicated - black and white in a world so full of Technicolor that Cloud didn't know how anyone made any decisions. He supposed he thought too much – but if he didn't, if he just acted on instinct, then he'd be called a selfish bastard and told to think about others' feelings. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

His team was spread out, creeping up the hill on their elbows, each cadet an arm's length from each other in a line abreast formation. Reno was on his right, Brian on his left, and they were almost to the top of the incline. So far it sounded like the rest of the Blue Team was keeping the Red Team pretty occupied on the north side.

Cloud held up a fist when they were a foot from the end of the slope. He gestured to Grant and another cadet who were on opposite ends of the line, and they nodded, inching up slowly and peering over the edge. They glanced back at Cloud and held up two fingers.

_Two cadets patrolling._

It was easy enough to take them out, but Cloud had to think quickly. There might only be two nearby, but they could be on revolving patrol, in which case their team had only a limited interval in which to take them out and move in.

Brian made to rise, but Cloud held him back. The brown-eyed boy looked at him questioningly but Cloud just held up a hand.

"We wait for the opportune moment," he whispered.

Brian nodded, and Cloud gestured again to the others. Grant and Ray inched up slowly on his right, and Jared and another cadet crawled forward on his left. They paused at the tip of the slope, looking to Cloud. He held up a fist, listening carefully. The sounds from the north end of the arena were loud enough to cover their gunfire, but he was waiting for a more constant stream of fire just in case. He counted the staccato sounds, noting that soon enough one of the teams would probably need to reload before letting off another useless unending stream of bullets.

He held up three fingers and the four cadets closest to the edge nodded.

_In three, two, one…_

He dropped his hand, and quickly Ray and Jared pushed up, taking aim and firing quickly just as another long stream of gunfire sounded from the north. The cries of the two Red Team cadets was effectively masked, even to Cloud, and he quickly crawled the rest of the way, rising to his feet as he reached the edge of the cliff. Grant and Jared had already divested the two enemy cadets of their weapons, and were standing lookout. As soon as Cloud and the others reached the top of the incline, Ralph and Reno quickly helped to drag the 'bodies' of the Red Team cadets over to the edge of the cliff, pushing them off gleefully.

Cloud led the way quickly, rifle at the ready, scanning the area with practiced ease as he moved silently towards the bunker. There was a rock formation a few feet from the back door of the bunker, and if they could get to it before anyone spotted them it would afford them some cover.

Team Fenrir reached the rock formation and threw themselves behind it just as the door to the bunker swung open, Cloud himself barely managing to duck down in time to hide his spiky hair. He held a hand perpendicular to his brows, and Ray and Jared peered out from around the corners of their little wall, quickly pulling back and holding up two fingers before mouthing 'SOLDIER'.

They had to take out two SOLDIERs before reaching the bunker? Cloud wanted to grin. He liked a challenge.

He listened carefully, unable to hear much due to the gunfire but unable to raise his head for fear of his blond spikes giving them away. He caught the eyes of the others, gesturing again. Jared and Ray were to take out the SOLDIERs while the others provided cover fire on his count.

Cloud shifted slightly, holding up three fingers. He counted down, and as he dropped his hand Team Fenrir sprang into action, Jared and Ray quickly leaning around the edges of the rock formation and lying on their stomachs, taking steady aim as Cloud and the others sprang up, letting off a volley. The Thirds seemed unprepared for this, and went down easily enough. Ray and Jared moved in quickly, standing watch by the door as the others dragged the Thirds behind the rock formation. Cloud peered over, quickly motioning the others to take their places along the back of the bunker. He followed last, heading straight for the door. Nodding once at Ray, who gripped the handle, he held his rifle up, standing slightly back. Then Ray swung the door open and Cloud took aim. There was no one there, no one that he could see anyway, so he moved in, rifle at the ready.

They were in the lion's den. Cloud was definitely grinning now.

_Just like old times._

-----

Zack hadn't been able to get the image from yesterday out of his head. He'd been passing by the IED Basics class and had glanced in through the glass pane on the door. The sight of Cloud and his friends had stopped him dead in his tracks.

The six cadets had commandeered the back bench, with Cloud in the middle. On one side of him had been the red-head, slouched back in his seat. The black-haired cadet in the window seat had been leaning against the slum kid's chair, an arm around the back of it. On the other side of Cloud had been a brunette leaning back in his chair twiddling a pen, with another blond in between him and a light brown haired boy who had looked scandalized with something or other. The others had all looked amused, and Cloud had been smirking slightly.

They looked Bad.

Zack kinda felt sorry for the light-brown haired cadet – seated next to the five super hot boys, he'd looked so much plainer by comparison. Cloud had been the prettiest of the lot, delicate looking even with that sexy smirk on his lips. Reno-no-last-name was hot, no doubt about it, with his unique coloring, the scars on his face only lending him a more feral, dangerous air even leaning indolently back. All in all, it had been the perfect setting for a mafia porn video ('Good Ass, Bad Ass' anyone?), and Zack had fled because if he'd lingered any longer he was going to get some very less-than-wholesome thoughts about Spiky.

His enquiries had led to him feeling very proud of Cloud for hanging with the Cool Kids. It seemed Reno-no-last-name, Ray Johnson, Ralph Vikers, and Jared Fontaine had been the most popular cadets since Day One of training – and they were certainly four of the best-looking. Cloud had good taste.

No one really knew the name of the brown haired kid, and Zack had had to resort to looking through the roll call sheet to find his name. Brian Tranton – as plain and unassuming as they came, with his light brown hair and light brown eyes – a middle class kid from Kalm. A bona fide Average Joe. The instructors agreed that Tranton had never really hung out with Reno and the others until Cloud's attitude change – and Zack was prouder still of the little blond for being so kind and decent to someone who was obviously easily over-looked. It seemed Cloud wasn't the type to rub his new-found popularity in the faces of the 'losers' – then again, looking at the kid it was easy to understand that he'd been one of them before: weak and disregarded. Zack was glad for this softer side of Cloud. It made the blond so much sweeter in his eyes, and so much better suited for his Grand Plan – if he could get over his principles and put it into action before they all died of old age.

Zack was in the observation room, watching the screens as the many cameras hidden around the arena indulged his voyeuristic tendencies. Cloud's team had been easy enough to spot, even though the screens were black and white – it was the best-looking team of cadets to ever come through Shinra. It helped that they weren't wearing their helmets – too many had been broken in Battle Sims and the bean counters were getting annoyed. That and Zack and some of the other Firsts liked to use them as baseballs, but as far as he knew no one had figured _that_ out yet, thank God.

When Cloud's team had waded back into the water and covered themselves with an up-turned boat, Zack had wanted to burst into song. He probably would have, too, if Sephiroth hadn't given him The Look. As it was he resorted to humming under his breath, enjoying how the General was desperately trying to tune him out.

Zack was very proud of himself for introducing CSI to Sephiroth.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me," Zack was grinning and he knew his breathily murmured tune was getting on Sephiroth's nerves; but true to form the General pretended that Zack was just a fly buzzing stupidly around the observation room.

Cloud's team was good – they worked as a cohesive unit, and it seemed Cloud's authority was unquestioned; although for awhile there in the water their little boat-shield had jerked and spasmed so much that Zack had wondered if they were having an orgy underneath their vessel. Pity there weren't any cameras under water.

When they had taken out two other cadets and two SOLDIER Thirds within minutes of each other, Zack hadn't been able to stop himself from letting out a low whistle. Cloud's team was _very _good. He'd glanced at Sephiroth - and to anyone else the General might have appeared indifferent to the situation - but Zack could see that his friend was surprised and impressed in the way he was leaning forward slightly in his chair.

Cloud was moving up _very_ quickly in the General's book.

Now they were moving swiftly through the bunker, clearing rooms one by one while four cadets remained guarding the hallways. It was ordered, systematic, and highly efficient – there was absolutely no wasted movement, no confusion, and no one was bumping into anyone or blocking each other's escape routes. Cloud had organized them well, and with only basic hand-signals – Zack had only seen this level of structure with SOLDIERs who had trained together for at least a month – and yet here was a group of ten cadets moving through a fortified structure with the practiced ease of veterans. He wondered if Cloud was telepathic, or if this group had somehow gotten extra training in without anyone else noticing.

He wondered how much of this was due to Cloud.

The cadets took out another two SOLDIERs by the stairs, and Zack grinned as the two Thirds were dragged down the hallway and shoved into a room, the door closed on their grouchy faces. No SOLDIER had expected to be taken down by cadets – if anything the Thirds had fought for the opportunity to join the Battle Sims because they wanted to whup some maggot butt.

Beside Zack, Jeffries puffed out his chest in pride. Zack was a little amused – Jeffries seemed to have a soft spot for Cloud, although Zack had no idea why. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that apparently Jeffries himself had been a late-bloomer, had been on the small side as a cadet before hitting a growth spurt and ballooning into the burly 6'2 instructor he was today.

Team Sex Bomb was nearing the control room, moving up the stairs in a decidedly serpentine manner and approaching the fortified area where the remaining four SOLDIERs were lying in wait. If they could take the Thirds out without losing any of their own, it would be an impressive record indeed. Zack glanced at the clock. The simulation had been going for slightly more than fifteen minutes, not including the five-minute head start that the sea-landing teams had been given. They were one minute away from the course record, but Zack doubted they could make it in time – they _were _just cadets after all, even if they were being led by someone as seemingly experienced as Cloud.

He really wanted to know how Cloud came to be so good at leading a team to victory in combat, but more than that he really wanted to know why he took such pride in Cloud's performance when he'd only spoken to the kid a handful of times. He supposed he felt a little guilty over cracking Cloud's rib in sword training, and he hadn't yet approached the blond with the offer of private classes because somehow this obsession with the little cadet was getting a bit too much, even by Zack's standards – he had actually woken up at zero-seven-hundred and made it to the observation room before the simulation started, shocking even the General himself. He wasn't in love or in lust – he'd sat down and had a good long think about that – so what was it then? Why this over-whelming desire to protect the blond, why this strong affection for someone he didn't even know? It was getting ridiculous, and Zack was getting frustrated with the lack of answers. He supposed getting to know the kid through private training would help, but what if all that he succeeded in obtaining were more questions than answers? Sephiroth hadn't been able to shed any light on the situation, although the day after Zack had beaten Cloud the General had noted that the blond had had a style of fighting eerily similar to Zack's – Sephiroth himself had been surprised by this discovery, had disregarded it at first during his observation in favor of the spark of fear he'd seen in Cloud's eyes. But then the General had said that Cloud appeared to mimic his opponents – at least when the blond had been fighting Reno he'd adopted a decidedly street style of fighting, which had changed to mirror Zack's later on, so they had come to the conclusion that Cloud was simply very, very smart when dealing with different opponents - could adjust himself accordingly to the situation. That took some serious skill, which had only raised more issues that they had puzzled over unsuccessfully.

_Who ARE you, Cloud Strife?_

Zack wanted answers, he wanted Cloud to just _tell _him what was going on, but he also didn't want to push the kid. From what he'd seen it seemed the blond had been through something pretty horrible, and Zack was either related to it or resembled someone enough to cause Cloud to look at him in that odd way of his. Zack didn't want to dredge up any painful memories for the cadet, because maybe it had taken the blond this long to get over his issues and come into his own and Zack didn't want to jeopardize Cloud's chances at SOLDIER by messing with his head. But even so… he really wanted _answers_, dammit!

He let out a frustrated sigh that had Jeffries and Sephiroth looking at him oddly. He offered them a grin, and Sephiroth just shook his head slightly before turning back to the monitors. Cloud's team was approaching the control room, and it seemed the SOLDIERs had heard them coming. Well, they _were _genetically-enhanced after all – if they couldn't hear ten cadets sneaking up on them they'd be sacked quicker than Hojo could raise Sephiroth's blood pressure.

It seemed Cloud knew they'd been had – although _how _he knew that, Zack had no idea - it was probably just paranoia or luck, the SOLDIER supposed. Cloud gestured quickly to the others, mouthing something to them that the cameras couldn't quite pick up on due to the angle, and his team-mates nodded, moving into position quickly along the corridor. They were spread out along the T-junction, and Cloud signaled to the two on either side of the control room doors. They nodded, one of them grasping the handle firmly, then Cloud gave him a nod and the Fontaine kid swung the door open just as Cloud and Reno threw themselves to the ground, sliding forward in their water-logged uniforms and firing away. The other boys had backed up, offering cover fire, with two others further down the direct stretch of corridor before the open door ducking quickly to avoid getting hit by the SOLDIERs. Cloud and Reno had already taken out the two SOLDIERs nearest to the door, and the remaining two Thirds were taking cover behind an over-turned table. It had turned into a Good Old Fashioned Gun-Fight, and Zack was loving the show.

_The Good, The Bad, and The Sexy._

He chuckled, leaning forward eagerly so as not to miss a moment. The other cadets had moved in quickly, the monitors showed Cloud yelling instructions but his rifle was obstructing the view of his face so Zack couldn't quite figure out what the blond was shouting. Vikers and Johnson had thrown themselves into the room, rolling on the ground before coming to a rest on their stomachs between the legs of another table. A burly, dark-skinned cadet was thundering down the corridor with a table he'd commandeered from another room, and he charged in, dropping it before Cloud and Reno just in time to save the two from getting hit with paint-bullets. Tranton, Fontaine and three others were guarding the corridor, and it was a good thing too, because at that moment several more enemy cadets had charged up the stairs – but they were taken out before they had even raised their rifles to the ready position.

_SO unprepared._

Zack was smirking, he knew that. His breath was coming in short bursts, and he was gripping the edge of his seat tight. From what he was seeing Cloud and Reno were simply firing wildly at the Thirds while Vikers and Johnson attempted to inch forward in order to get clearer shots as the burly kid dragged the downed Thirds out of the room by their feet - Zack couldn't stop himself from laughing; it was all too much like one of the Saturday morning cartoons of his childhood. Cloud seemed to be yelling more instructions, and the burly kid nodded, ducking back into the fray and picking the table up by its legs, charging forward like a raging bull with his wooden shield before him. Cloud and Reno stood up quickly, still firing wildly, and the Thirds, shocked at this sudden aggressive maneuver, were distracted enough that Vikers and Johnson managed to stand up, take aim, and fire off two precise shots along the Thirds' vermillion lines.

_Smack dab between the eyes! Nice work!_

Zack was cheering and clapping, and it seemed the Thirds were too stunned to react – those paint-pellets had a _nasty_ kick. The cadets were pumping the air with their fists, and Zack laughed out loud when Cloud was suddenly enveloped completely in an impromptu group hug – the big, burly kid dwarfing the diminutive blond cadet by more than a head. Cloud had a long-suffering expression on his face, but there was the barest hint of a smile as well, and Zack suddenly wished those other stupid cadets would just get out of the way so that he could see this happier side of the blond.

_Smile, kiddo. You're on Candid Camera._

Zack was smiling like an idiot, he knew. But Jeffries was grinning like a monkey, so it was fine. He turned to glance at Sephiroth, and wasn't surprised to find that the General had already disappeared, the door to the observation room shutting soundlessly behind him.

Cloud had made more of an impact than Sephiroth had liked.

_Boom._

-----

The cadets had to announce their victory before Battle Sims was officially ended, and until they did they were fair game for any other Red Team cadets that happened to come across them. Cloud was trying to get Reno or someone else to do it for him – he didn't want to make an announcement to an arena filled with other cadets, he'd never been one for public speaking – but the others wouldn't hear of it.

"You do it," Ray said, looking at him. "You're the CO." The others voiced their assent.

Cloud sighed and nodded, walking over to the window-ledge and leaning down to speak into the microphone, flicking the red switch at its base.

"This is Cloud Strife of Team Fenrir. We have Disneyland. I repeat: we have Disneyland."

The horn sounded then, echoing throughout the arena loudly and barely masking the cheering going on around him. He straightened and turned to face the others, feeling rather proud of himself and trying desperately not to show it. Cloud doubted it was working.

"Wow, is that a new course record?" Reno was grinning and high-five-ing Ray. Jared was hip-thrusting at the air and Brian was studiously looking elsewhere while smiling as though he didn't believe they'd won but he was happy anyway. The SOLDIERs just rolled their eyes, but Cloud didn't miss how one of them kept giving him odd looks. He wondered at that, but realized it was probably the Third recognizing his name from the spar with Zack. It wasn't often a First Class deigned to tango with cadets, and it was especially rare for said cadet to have held his own.

He endured the friendly slaps from the rest of the team, struggling to hold back his own pleased grin, but he could tell it was a losing battle. They had just taken out eight SOLDIERs after all – and not one of their team had been hit. It was a proud moment, almost like one of those great defining moments in one's life, and Cloud had never felt this invincible in all his years. His adult mind was telling him that it was just a folly of youth, that they'd gotten lucky this time because the Thirds had grossly underestimated the cadets, that he'd better not think he was actually _good _at something; but the other part of him was just so damned happy that he couldn't really be bothered listening to his more rational side. It felt good to have accomplished something, even something as small as winning a Battle Simulation, and he'd done it _without_ Hojo's tweaking. Cloud felt he had every right to bask in the glory of the moment – he had certainly deserved it, _they _had certainly deserved it.

_If you could just see me now, Zack. You'd be so proud of me, I know you would be._

He smiled when Reno grabbed him in a one-armed hug, and burst out laughing when Ray ruffled his hair. He felt so exultant, and, even though Nibelheim was approaching and with it the End of Dreams, he just wanted this moment to last forever – because here, now, nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him, and if he could only hold on to this feeling for the rest of his life he'd never ask for anything more.

At length the announcement came over the intercom, echoing off the walls of the arena.

"Congratulations to the Blue Team for winning the Battle Simulation," Jeffries boomed down at them. "And congratulations to Team Fenrir, led by Cadet Strife, for finishing the course in nineteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds. None of their team was hit, and they were slightly more than three minutes away from the course record." At that, Reno and the others whooped, and Cloud was nearly strangled by another impromptu group hug. "All cadets are to report back to the mess hall for a debriefing in thirty."

"You heard that? We were only three minutes away from breaking a SOLDIER record!" Reno yelled, jumping up and down and nearly taking Cloud's head off with him as the red-head's arm was still around Cloud's neck. The blond rolled his eyes, unable to resist smiling at his team's exuberant cheer.

Ray and Jared had started singing 'We Are The Champions', grabbing onto the others and swaying from side to side. Cloud allowed himself to be man-handled, unwilling to spoil the moment just yet by reminding them that they had to haul ass if they wanted to make it back to the mess hall in time for the debriefing. He supposed the other cadets would take their own sweet time as well – no one wanted to be back in time for the last leg of PT.

After another endless round of cheering, the team headed back down to their boat, surprised to find it was still there. The Red Team cadets they passed along the way offered laughing congratulations, complaining that they should have just waited another hour before announcing their victory because then they would definitely not have to head to PT. Cloud endured more friendly pats on the back – his cheeks hurt from smiling so much – and he accepted the congratulations showered on him. They rowed back to the doors of the arena, Reno and the others yelling and whooping and waving their oars over their heads so much so that they were all drizzled with more piss-water, but no one cared right now. They'd _won_, and they hadn't been hit at all.

Other cadets were calling congratulations from the beach and the other boats, and it had turned into one gigantic celebration in this one gigantic arena – Cloud was waiting for the bubble to burst or for the dream to end, because surely no one could be this happy in real life? – but it didn't end, and nothing horrible happened on the way back to the mess hall, unless he counted being glomped and patted incessantly as torturous. He took his usual seat as the others clapped and cheered; Reno, Ralph, Ray, and Jared standing on the table and bowing to the adoring masses. They tried to drag Cloud up with them, but he resolutely clamped his legs around his seat and refused to budge, so they contented themselves with dealing with the fans. Cloud had never grinned so much in his life.

At length Jeffries and the other instructors arrived, yelling at Reno and the others to get their asses off the tables before they were put on weekend duty – they scampered down in a flash – and then Cloud had to endure Jeffries' very proud, very broad smile and gruff "Excellent work, Strife" in front of everyone. He couldn't help flushing slightly with pride, thanking the Staff Sergeant and saluting him before sitting back down.

When the hall had quieted down, Jeffries announced that as they had finished so quickly and so close to the record, they were all excused from PT – the entire canteen burst into such jubilant cheering that he had to blow his whistle several times to get their attention – and they were allowed to do as they pleased until their next class as long as the COs organized the return of their teams' deuce gears before lunch. Cloud was almost knocked off his seat by an exuberant Ray throwing himself at him, and it was only because he was seated right next to the wall that his head was saved from hitting the floor. The minute the sergeants left the chow hall, Cloud's table was swarmed by other cadets, and Reno and Ralph started loudly proclaiming that they would tell them all _exactly _how they'd done it, and why they were just _the_ _flyest_ cadets in Shinra history. Cloud just shook his head, getting up to get himself a cup of coffee. He needed to be shocked back to reality by the mud-water that passed as caffeine here in training before arranging for his team to return their packs.

_Good times, great taste._

-----

Sephiroth didn't know how he should be feeling. He supposed that, as General, he should be glad that this next batch of future SOLDIERs showed such obvious talent and teamwork. He supposed as well that he should be feeling proud of the cadets, Strife in particular, for such excellent work. And maybe he should be feeling a little disgruntled that his Thirds had been taken down within minutes by ten recruits.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for this moment – nothing in CSI had shown him how to react to something like this. Because, try as he might, he couldn't quite figure out exactly _what _it was that he was feeling. And he didn't like it. Cloud Strife had upset his equilibrium, had stomped all over it like Bahamut with ants in its pants, and Sephiroth was Not Pleased At All, despite the rather pleasant, unfamiliar feeling in his chest. He wished he had Zack here to tell him what was going on – but that would mean actually telling Zack how he was feeling, and Sephiroth would kiss Hojo before he did _that_.

He looked down at the papers before him. Soon enough the videos of the simulation would be on his desk, as well as the reports from the instructors, and then he would definitely have to acknowledge the uncomfortably unknown emotion that he was faced with, and he was hoping to postpone that as long as possible.

Sephiroth sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to focus on the mission report in front of him. Where was his world-famous control when he needed it most?

Alright, he'd face up to it. Before Zack arrived and started annoying him with his bouncy comments. If the First actually _dared _sing that stupid song in his office, Sephiroth thought he might just make Zack spend the weekend babysitting the President. He smirked at the thought – it was an excellent revenge, actually. Zack guarded his weekends jealously, becoming a hedonistic alcoholic every time Friday evening rolled around, and the President was either boring as a white wall or lecherous as a horn-dog.

Sephiroth sat back in his chair, letting his elbows rest on the arms of his leather chair and his hands dangle over his thighs. Time to think about this logically, rationally. What exactly was he feeling?

When Strife had led his team to over-turn the row-boat and duck under it, heading around the island, Sephiroth had been…amused and impressed. Until Zack had looked like he'd been about to burst into song, then Sephiroth had just given him a warning look and tried to ignore the First's murmured singing.

When Strife's team had then taken out the first two Thirds they'd encountered, Sephiroth had been impressed. The SOLDIERs hadn't expected enemy cadets to close in so quickly, so they'd gone down without a fight.

When Strife had then led his team systematically through the bunker, Sephiroth had been impressed and suspicious. The way Strife guided his team indicated he was an old hand at infiltration – but the boy was just a _cadet_, and he'd never been very good at anything until recently.

When Strife had commanded his team to victory in a gun-fight over four SOLDIER Thirds, Sephiroth had been impressed, surprised, and…proud. He paused to consider that last emotion. Yes, that was it – pride - that _must _be it. He'd had a rather warm feeling in his chest, and he'd felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. A quick glance at Jeffries and Zack indicated that they had been grinning broadly at the screens; but the emotion was so alien, so foreign to the General that he had upped and left quickly before Zack could pester him with questions and force him to admit that he'd felt _something _over Strife's flawless victory.

Alright, so he'd felt proud of the boy. Was that really so bad? He _was _the General after all – and a cadet in the SOLDIER program was proving to be an excellent candidate for SOLDIER, was proving himself to be an incredible team-leader. There was nothing wrong with feeling proud, except for the fact that it was a _cadet_ for crying out loud – Sephiroth had never bothered with cadets before, had never even learned their names until Strife had broken that other cadet's arm and then foiled Hojo in the hallways. What was it about the boy that made him so impossible to forget? That made him capable of sneaking into the General's dreams even though they had never spoken to each other?

Sephiroth frowned. He wasn't going to think about that. That was just him being male and young – he _was _only twenty-five after all. _That_ matter was irrelevant. All Sephiroth was feeling was pride over the fact that a cadet was showing such promise, and there was nothing wrong with that, absolutely nothing wrong with that.

His mind made up, he pushed all thoughts of a blond-haired, blue-eyed cadet away and sat up, focusing on his paperwork. He needed to get it done before Zack came barreling in with lunch. Sephiroth hoped the First would bring some good Wutaian with him – it was Friday after all.

_TGIF_.

-----

Cloud wondered when everyone was going to get over what happened in Battle Sims. The cadets were in obstacle course now, and he'd been patted and friendly-slapped and congratulated ceaselessly throughout target practice and lunch. And now he was still getting people coming up to him telling him how awesome he was several hours after the fact.

It wasn't that he didn't like being told he'd done a good job, and it wasn't that he didn't like people liking him. It was just that he had never really been one for attention, and _would these idiots just get over it already?_

He didn't say anything though, giving every one of his fans a half-smile and a half-hearted "thank you". Reno and the others had, for the most part, deflected the attention away from him and he was grateful for that – even though he figured they probably wanted the attention for themselves, but hey, 'sharing is caring' as they say. Cloud was very happy for the rest of his team to be inundated with praise if it meant that everyone would _just leave him alone_.

He sighed, scaling the wall effortlessly, not scraping his knees as he had last week. He dropped soundlessly over the side, and headed towards the monkey-bars. Some nameless _twit _called out congratulations to him, and Cloud gritted his teeth and gave the kid a small wave. The ever cynical, ever pessimistic side of him wondered if they were just doing this to mock him, to remind him of how pathetic and useless he'd been the last time they'd had Battle Sims. He resolutely pushed that thought out of his head. Much as he hated the unending flattery, he hated being a depressed little brat even more.

He made it through the obstacle course without biting anyone's head off, and sat himself in between Reno and Ray when they were being lectured on the finer points of scaling a building. He was rather looking forward to it – urban playgrounds were more his thing, not these silly plaster rock walls with their garishly colored hand- and foot-holds.

They headed to the showers after that, Reno slinging an arm around the blond's shoulders in a subtle gesture to ward off any and all admirers, and Cloud was very glad for the red-head's perceptive nature and unnatural thoughtfulness. It certainly helped keep the more touchy-feely fans away, and Cloud was starting to think that if his clothes were fingerprint scanners he'd have the prints of every cadet on file by now. He could've sworn he'd been groped on purpose during some of the hugs he'd been subject to – and that had raised his hackles even more. He didn't like being touched, unless it was _certain _people with _certain _privileges.

As it was, Team Fenrir was allowed first dibs at the showers, and they accepted this proof of their victory gratefully – Cloud included. He had tried not to think about Jared's comment on the hygiene of the arena water, but he could've sworn his skin was starting to itch unnaturally. Ralph had been pretty sure a ringworm had burrowed under his skin – and it had taken them all of lunch hour to convince him that it was just a bruise from hefting a boat over his head and crawling in the mud and gun-fighting with SOLDIERs.

Cleaned and refreshed, Cloud sat on his bunk, leaning against his pillow and stretching lightly. It felt _good_ – he hadn't realized how tiring Battle Sims had been until he'd been crawling through mud again in the obstacle course and then his body had started to ache from all the slinking and scampering he'd had to do with that stupid deuce pack on his back.

When the Supply Crew made their run, he'd asked for whisky. He needed something strong. Reno just raised an eyebrow at that, but croaked for whisky as well, lying back on his bunk and not even bothering to dry his hair. They were _exhausted_.

Cloud wondered if this meant that 'other physical pursuits' was off the menu tonight.

_Pervert._

So sue him, but he was only fifteen. Technically.

Ray had opted to collapse onto Cloud's bed, flopping across the blond's legs rather dramatically and groaning blissfully as his back was stretched in this position with his head hanging over the side. Jared had become a boneless lump on his bunk, and Ralph had given up trying to pull a shirt on, simply collapsing onto the floor and leaning against his bunk, eyes half-closed and mouth half-open.

Cloud wondered what would happen if they were suddenly dropped in the middle of a battle zone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt thisexhausted after a skirmish – but then again he didn't have Mako here to back him up, and he _was _a pretty small fifteen year old who'd lugged a 50 pound pack up a hill and around a bunker.

When the dinner bell sounded, it took all of Cloud's willpower to drag himself off his bunk – which had suddenly morphed into the softest of beds with satin sheets and feather-downs. They trudged to the mess hall, getting their food and slumping into their seats gracelessly. It was only after the first few bites that the cadets started feeling more alive, and Cloud could feel himself becoming more human already.

'_Other physical pursuits' are back on the menu._

He really was turning into a pervert.

By the time they'd finished their dinner and started walking back to their bunker, Jared had recovered enough to shower Brian with sweet nothings. Cloud couldn't stop himself from smirking, and he had to bite his lip several times to keep from laughing out loud – Brian was _way _too stiff – and, alright, Cloud himself was starting to get with the lewd program mentally but at least he wasn't _saying_ anything perverted.

They stopped at the vending machines - Jared was trying to advise Brian on which chips would taste best on his skin – and Cloud was doing his best to ignore the brown-eyed boy's horrified squeaking. Reno and the others were debating the combination of salty chips and sweat, with Ray adamantly stating that chocolate was the only thing that tasted good on someone else – Cloud wondered how a fifteen year old rich kid from Junon had gotten so damned experienced so young, then decided he really didn't want to know. Reno he could understand – the slums weren't the most proper of places; and Jared was a pervert, simple as that.

Chocolate sounded good, actually.

He got his snacks, un-wrapping his chocolate bar and taking a bite while waiting for the others to make their selections. Brian looked like he didn't want to get anything anymore, but the allure of candy was too strong and in the end he bought eight bars of chocolate. Ray gave Jared an 'I told you so' look.

Back in the bunks, Reno pulled out his deck of cards again, and Cloud wanted to groan. He _really _didn't want to get suckered into a game of strip poker again – he just wanted to get _drunk_. They started with a regular poker game, Jared suggesting they play for bathroom time – Cloud nearly fell off the bed when he heard it – but in the end they decided that the victor would get to choose what they did over the weekend. Brian had managed to wedge himself firmly between Cloud and the wall - far, far away from Jared, and Cloud wanted to laugh. He himself was smaller than Brian, smaller than Jared - and yet here he was being used as a human shield. Brian should have hidden behind Grant The Hulk if he was serious about escaping Jared's perversion.

Ray had some serious poker skills when he knuckled down to it – he was giving both Cloud and Reno a run for their money, and Cloud's more competitive side rose to the occasion. Ralph was egging them on, giving some of the _dumbest_ advice Cloud had ever heard, simply because the drinking couldn't start until the Poker Champion took the first sip of alcohol.

Cloud won – a straight flush. He hadn't been expecting it – could this day get any better? – but he indulged his fans and took a very long drink of whisky straight from the bottle. It burned going down, but it reminded him so much of days spent at Tifa's trying desperately to forget that his eyes burned even more. He was glad that the others were too focused on catching up with him to notice how hard he blinked, hurriedly chasing away the memories of a bleaker future. He didn't want to spoil this – it could all go to the dogs tomorrow or in the next hour – but right now, right here, there would be only laughter and enough alcohol to fill the amphibious assault arena.

"I propose a toast!" Jared declared, holding his bottle of rum up like a sotted pirate-king on a deserted island. "To backdoor entry!"

Brian choked on his beer, and Cloud attempted to thump the other cadet's back while struggling to hold back his chuckles, raising his bottle of whisky in the air and toasting with the others.

"To Cloud!" Ralph yelled from his position on the floor next to Reno's bunk.

"To Cloud and backdoor entry!" Ray crowed, taking a swig of his whisky without waiting for anyone else to join him.

"To Cloud's backdoor entry!" Jared shouted, not to be outdone. Cloud almost dropped his whisky bottle, staring at the other blond while trying to decide if he wanted to laugh or run the kid over with Fenrir and then back up for good measure. Reno was in hysterics - the _bastard_.

In the end he just downed half his bottle in one long gulp. Alcohol made _everything_ better, he was starting to learn. In the future, when he hadn't been able to get drunk, alcohol had just been a symbol of his failure and imperfection, a reminder of how very different he was; but as a fifteen year old cadet, alcohol was fast becoming his BFF.

The poker game started again, no one was drunk enough to play the stripper version yet, thank God, and Cloud allowed Jared to take his seat next to Brian because being used as a human shield was something Cloud doubted he could ever get used to – there was _far_ too much touching involved. He ignored Brian's betrayed gasp, scooting over to sit next to Ray, who clinked his bottle against Cloud's and suckered him into a little drinking contest. Cloud wondered how they'd managed to get so many bottles of whisky – but then he remembered that Ray's family usually sent crates of the stuff over in care packages every month. Cloud had friends in high places; he was moving up in the world – he was a social butterfly, he was the cat's pajamas, he was _Batman_.

_We are the cartoon heroes._

Reno looked more relaxed than Cloud had ever seen him – the red-head almost always had a casual air about him, always looked like he had just wandered in from a tropical holiday – but this was _more _than that. The other cadet looked almost…tranquil, content, _happy._ Cloud could remember smug Reno, pleased Reno, sated Reno, and full-of-himself Reno; but he certainly never remembered seeing the red-head so at ease with everyone and everything.

_First time for everything._

They played five games of Hold'Em before they were drunk enough to start strip poker – and this time no one had prepared themselves for it with an excess of clothing articles on their person. Cloud was desperately trying to remember which was a stronger hand – a flush or a full-house – because he had a feeling he'd have to take his shirt off pretty soon if he kept drinking like a fish. It was all Ray's fault – the Junon kid was a damned good drinker, and he had copious amounts of whisky which he shared very liberally with Cloud.

In the back of his mind Cloud wondered if Ray was just plying him with drinks before The Big Bang.

Jared was leaning against Cloud, rum-stained breath in his ear hot and heavy as the blond looked at Cloud's hand – the taller cadet wasn't bothering to play strip poker; he had already taken his shirt off for them, exhibitionist that he was – and snorted.

"You're SO stripping this round, Cloudy." Cloud wanted to smack him, but his arms felt a little heavy with the weight of the whisky in his system, and really, the world was too beautiful for violence right now.

Ray raised his eyebrows. "Raise."

Cloud rolled his eyes.

Reno grinned. "Call _that_."

Cloud lost. Why, oh why did he have to be surrounded by so many porn-stars? He considered escaping to the bathroom, but it seemed Jared had anticipated that, and suddenly Cloud was pinned to his bed by the lecherous blond while Ray yanked his tee off. He struggled ineffectually – alcohol making him find the situation hilarious for some reason – and couldn't resist laughing when Jared took the opportunity to tickle his sides. Reno was egging them on, and Ralph was calling for a camera. Brian was giggling slightly from his hiding place in the corner – the _traitor_ – and then suddenly Cloud's shirt was off and there were cat calls and wolf-whistles. He blushed – or was it the alcohol that was making him flush? – and Ray winked, slipping some gil into the waistband of his sweatpants and grinning like a maniac.

"Only twenty gil?" The somber side of Cloud was aghast at his behavior – he was behaving like a damned _hussy_ – but he ignored it in favor of just having _fun _and being a boy for once in his life.

Ralph laughed, digging around his pockets and coming up with five gil – cheap bastard – getting Jared to stuff it into Cloud's pants for him because he couldn't be bothered moving from his spot on the floor. Jared was only too happy to oblige, and Cloud was pretty sure the other blond copped a feel while he was at it – he couldn't really tell, his skin was a little numb from the liquor and warm from all the attention. He was a little self-conscious, even this tipsy, but he managed not to look down at himself or clasp his hands in front of his chest like one of those silly girls in the cartoons Denzel watched sometimes – and given the way everyone was pretty much leering at him he supposed he wasn't _that _bad looking. Jared leered at everyone, so his opinion didn't count.

They started another round, Cloud doing his best to focus, Jared doing his best to distract him, and Ray doing his best to get him drunk – they weren't playing fair, the cheeky bastards. He didn't lose, thank God, and Reno made a huge production out of taking off his shirt – standing up on his bed – _how_ the other boy managed not to wobble after all the whisky he'd drunk was beyond Cloud – and doing a little dance that was more hip-gyration than anything. Cloud was glad he still had his pants on.

The madness raged on – Brian and Grant and some of the other cadets down to just their skivvies within an hour – and soon it was only Cloud, Reno, and Ray who still had their pants on. Cloud chanced a glance at the red-head then, and Reno quickly announced that they would play drinking games from now on. Cloud wondered again at the red-head's apparent reluctance to allow anyone else to see him unclothed – then just shrugged it off. He had more important things to think about now – such as whether they should play 'I have never' or alcoholic poker.

'I have never' won hands down – most cadets were too blind to deal with cards.

Cloud had never played this game before, had never actually heard of it until Reno announced it. After a very drunken explanation of the rules by Ralph, they started. And instantly Cloud wished he'd never agreed to this game – he _really_ didn't need to know about Grant's fetishes.

Reno was cracking up.

Luckily for Cloud, the others were pretty deep in their cups by the time his turn came around, and he managed to pass off a repeat statement. Ray had stopped stuffing him full of whisky – it seemed the brunette's intention had simply been to get Cloud to loosen up – so pretty soon it was Cloud, Reno, Ray, Ralph, and Jared sipping their drinks in the corner and just listening to the outlandish declarations of the others.

Cloud doubted Brian had lost his virginity yet – the kid had probably just decided to drink every round.

He pulled his shirt back on, simply because he wasn't comfortable showing much skin, and the five of them played a lazy game of poker until Jared, nympho that he was, declared that the winner of each round would get to kiss whoever he liked. Did the kid _ever _think about anything other than sex? Cloud was beginning to wonder how the other blond had passed the SOLDIER quals before.

Ray won the first round, and Cloud wondered if he should start running – but before he could make up his mind or get his body to cooperate he was yanked forward and his mouth was filled with a _very _talented tongue.

_Damn._

Ray was _good._

They were parted forcibly by Reno and Ralph, who rolled their eyes at the two slightly breathless cadets and reminded them that it was a _kiss _that the victor got – not face-eating or making out. Jared the Voyeur just looked like Christmas had come early.

They continued on until midnight – by which time Cloud considered himself a very experienced kisser indeed. But all the osculation was just bringing their hormones to fore, and Jared had whispered something to Reno which Cloud didn't manage to overhear but which had the red-head nodding. He supposed it was alright, whatever it was, because it wasn't like any of them were in relationships, and they were all mature enough to not make a big deal out of anything. But even this intoxicated Cloud didn't know if he'd be comfortable enough with any other cadet – Reno was a familiar face in a new old life, and Cloud felt secure in knowing more about the red-head than Reno himself knew. He didn't think that Ray or Ralph or Jared would hurt him – but somehow it was still an intimate enough act, even if there were no emotions involved, and Cloud had always been a private man.

In the end Jared just grabbed Ray and Ralph, hauling them off the bed and heading off somewhere. Cloud raised his eyebrows at the three cadets, but didn't say anything. The rest of the bunker was out cold – softies – so Cloud and Reno just got up and headed to the bathroom. It was party time.

When they finally stumbled back to their bunks, Cloud half-dragged by Reno because he _really _couldn't feel anything below his shoulder blades, Jared and the others still hadn't returned yet. Cloud would have been amused if he could muster up the energy, but the minute Reno deposited him on his bunk, he lay back and fell asleep, dimly aware that Reno was pulling the covers up over him in a very unnatural gesture of kindness.

_First time for everything._

-----

The next morning, the cadets stumbled out of bed blearily. Cloud was glad his internal clock had woken him up four hours after he'd gotten back from his little tryst with Reno – the way some of his bunkmates were behaving, he doubted the bathrooms were going to be a pleasant place to be for the next few hours.

He stretched a little and winced, changing his position on the bed. He was _sore_, but in a good way. Cloud admitted he liked it rough, had never had it anything but, and a part of him whispered that it was because he was saving the tenderness for a _certain someone_. He scowled.

_Quit thinking about him._

Except it was hard not to – not when every other cadet was in the bathroom and he was alone here with the morning sun on his back. He wondered where the General was, how he'd spent his night – then slapped himself mentally. It didn't matter – why _should_ it matter – they hadn't spoken to each other yet, _he _didn't know Cloud yet.

_And he probably never will_, he thought viciously.

He was rescued from himself by the return of Reno and Ray, who were both yawning incessantly and looking very smugly satisfied with themselves. Cloud supposed he should kick Reno, but his body hurt and he was pretty sure he was wearing one of those cat-got-the-cream expressions himself. Reno displayed that unusual thoughtfulness again, loping an arm around Cloud's shoulders in an attempt to disguise the fact that he was helping to support the smaller blond. Judging by Ray's smirk the disguise didn't work too well.

They ate their breakfast in silence, and even when the others joined them no one spoke for a long while. Brian looked sick to his stomach at the sight of food, and Jared was smiling vapidly at nothing in particular.

_Someone had a good night._

Cloud would have grinned if he wasn't so used to squirreling his emotions away into tiny little nooks and crannies in his mind that no one else could get to. He ate quickly, grateful for the quiet, and then slowly sipped at a cup of coffee while he waited for the others to finish their breakfasts. He wondered if they were heading under the plate today. He couldn't really remember who'd won the right to decide on the itinerary, but he hoped it wasn't him. He hadn't the slightest clue as to what teenaged boys did when they were together – apart from drinking, fighting, and boinking.

"Wall-Market?" Ralph suddenly mumbled, drawing Jared out of his X-rated reverie.

Reno nodded. "Wall-Market."

Cloud still couldn't figure out who had won last night's game, but he supposed it didn't matter.

They cleared their trays and headed off, Brian looking like he just wanted to back out and spend the day with his new best friend The Commode. Cloud wondered if he should suggest the Kalm cadet do just that, but then Jared started his daily ritual and Brian started to look more like himself – albeit a paler, queasier version. The six of them got to the station, buying their tickets and waiting for the train, Reno still keeping an arm around Cloud's shoulders. Cloud wondered how Jared was managing to walk so normally – he assumed the other blond had been the catcher as well – and debated asking for some tips on how to ease the ache. He quickly shoved that thought out of his head – what the hell was he _thinking_?

On the train Brian sat himself in a corner and just slumped against the wall, looking like the unsteady motions of their metal carriage were aggravating his condition. Cloud hung back just in case, taking a seat on the other side and wincing slightly as he sat down. Reno smirked at that, but Cloud just ignored him in favor of looking out at the changing scenery as they progressed. No one was feeling very talkative, although Jared was half-heartedly attempting to upset Brian's delicate sensibilities, and Ray and Ralph had claimed two rows of seats – stretching themselves out and looking for all the world like they owned the place. Cloud didn't doubt that Ray's allowance alone was enough to buy the entire train and have change left over for purchase of a station. The kid was Loaded.

The slums were still relatively quiet – it being before noon on a Saturday and most people recovering from Friday night's activities. Cloud was grateful for that, because he'd always hated noisy, crowded places. It drowned him out, dwarfed him in a sea of selfishness, and smothered him with its self-absorbed impatience. He had never felt at home in social situations, and he was a little glad for the others around him. Glad and nervous – because he honestly had no idea how he should behave or act right now. What _did_ teenagers dowhen they went out in a group?

For now they were just wandering aimlessly, meandering towards Wall-Market. Ralph was looking around, his nose wrinkling at the smell, and Cloud wondered if he should warn the other cadet about the perils of showing that he wasn't a local, even if they had all dressed simply enough to blend in. Jared beat him to it though, slinging an arm around Ralph's shoulders and coming deftly in between the black-haired boy and an early-rising pick-pocket. Cloud couldn't remember where Jared was from, but he supposed the other cadet had probably ventured under the plate before, if the way he was behaving was any indication. Brian was sticking close to Cloud, with Ray in between him and the rest of the slums, but it seemed the Kalm kid had never been under the plate before either. His eyes were wide and roving, his nose wrinkled at the olfactory evidence of poverty, and he looked green in the face. It couldn't have been very pleasant for someone so obviously suffering from a hangover, and Cloud felt a little sorry for the other boy. He was clearly pushing himself to deal with it so that he could hang out with them, and Cloud resolved to be nicer to the brown-eyed recruit for that. It was nice to have friends who ignored their own maladies in favor of spending time with you.

When they reached Wall-Market the million-gil question was raised.

"What do you guys wanna do?" Ray asked, looking at Cloud and Reno. Cloud just shrugged, glancing around. He hadn't really taken a good look the last two times he'd been here – the first time because he'd been intent on getting to Aeris, and the second time because he had been shagged out of his mind and content to just follow Reno's lead.

"You guys got anything in particular you wanna get?" Reno was looking up the street, towards where Cloud remembered Mike's joint was.

Ralph shrugged, still looking sleepy. "Was thinking of getting a knife or something, actually." He yawned loudly.

"A knife?" Brian looked worried. "But cadets aren't _allowed _to have weapons. You'll get in trouble."

Reno rolled his eyes at the law-abiding citizen, turning to Ralph. "You could've just asked _me,_ y'know." The red-head looked a little put out. Ralph snorted.

"And paid through my ass. I _know_ you charge a helluva margin."

Reno just smirked at him. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. It's business, Vikers. Nothing personal."

"And what did Cloudy pay?" Ray was giving Cloud and Reno a knowing look, waggling his eyebrows. Cloud considered just sticking him with his butterfly knife – it wanted to see the world, not die of old age in its sheath under his clothes.

"What?! Cloud's got a concealed weapon?" Brian turned to him, eyes wide. Cloud reminded himself about his earlier resolution to be nicer to the kid, even though he wanted to smack him upside the head for shrieking so loudly in the middle of the street.

Jared grinned. "Well, anyone can tell he isn't _always_ happy to see us." He winked, looking pointedly at Cloud's front pockets.

Cloud was surprised. He hadn't known he'd been that obvious, although considering that the cadets were together 24/7 he supposed they would have noticed something. He didn't exactly have many places to hide a knife on his person, given that five days a week they were dressed in fatigues and sweat-drenched tees.

_You think you're the only one who's any good with knives?_

He wasn't giving the others enough credit, he realized. He'd been thinking that he was the only one around with experience in battle, experience with weapons, when he should have figured out that the seamless harmony of his team in Battle Sims was due mostly to his team-mates' abilities and not his leadership. He kicked himself mentally.

_You REALLY think you're all that, don't you? Fucking idiot._

"That's the second time today he's gone cloudy." Ray grinned. Cloud couldn't hold back the amused little half-smile that escaped him – they were tallying his zoning out moments now? Inwardly he was grateful for the others – they were distracting him from his more depressing thoughts, shielding him from his self-loathing, and he wished there was something he could do to make them realize how much he appreciated it.

_All you gotta do is save the world. Again._

He dragged himself back to the present. Reno was nodding. "Cool, this way. But don't think I ain't getting something out of the deal."

They continued then, coming to the filthy alleyway and ducking into the hole in the wall. Mike was in his usual seat, and Cloud wondered if the man spent all his time just sitting on that upturned crate waiting for customers. Didn't he _eat?_

Reno introduced everyone, and Cloud was a little surprised that Mike remembered him without prompting. He nodded at the man, noting with amusement how Brian seemed to shrink under the arms-dealer's beady gaze. Jared instantly coddled his favorite victim, grinning at Mike and laying on the charm. It seemed Jared really knew how to work it, if the matching grin on Mike's face was any indication. They went into the back room, and Ralph instantly went ga-ga over the array of weapons laid out so carelessly. Cloud hid a smile, standing back in a corner and just watching the others go nuts. Brian escaped Jared's hold, coming to stand beside Cloud and giving him a reproachful look that the blond wanted to roll his eyes at. The kid was such a _prude._

_Once upon a time, you were too. Now get off your high horse, idiot._

He listened to Brian's mindless chatter with half an ear, watching as Ray fell in love with an _urumi_, or 'whip sword' as it was most commonly called. Cloud himself had tried to master the flexible blade once, liking how it could be coiled tightly and hidden discreetly, but the damned thing was _nasty_, and it was only thanks to Hojo's tweaking that the older him hadn't lost an ear - that and he preferred his swords stiff.

_Pervert._

He wondered again how Ray came to be so good with weapons and so handy in a fight. Surely millionaires didn't let their sons wander around getting into street-fights? He didn't really know, considering Ray was from a whole other world – Cloud had grown up the illegitimate son of a single mother, and they were pretty poor – Nibelheim wasn't exactly a Land of Opportunity. He'd always wondered why his mother had chosen to settle there, when she wasn't even from the area.

He'd ask her some day, he decided. While she was alive and still giving him a place to call home.

Jared had opted for brass knuckles – although even from this distance Cloud could see that the raised ends were sharper than usual. It didn't really seem like Jared's weapon of choice, but Cloud supposed they were all just making do until SOLDIER, when they would finally be allowed weapons and specialize in a chosen field. He himself was eager to move on to real swords, eager to feel the familiar weight of First Tsurugi as he hefted the masterpiece in his hands. Fenrir might be his pride and joy, but First Tsurugi was probably the love of his life. He resolutely pushed away the mental image of the _real_ love of his life, focusing on Brian's chatter and nodding slightly. Reno was haggling with Mike, and Jared was flirting with the man – the arms-dealer didn't last long under the combined pressure of the two insidious cadets, giving in as exaggeratedly as he had the previous week. Cloud bit back a grin.

_These guys are __**good**__._

They left after awhile, Reno somehow having more orders that needed to be filled in even though he barely left Cloud's side in camp. Cloud wondered at that. Did the red-head have some sort of secret signal that sent him flying to potential clients in the dead of the night?

He wanted to snort at the mental image of a Reno-signal. It would probably just be a busty babe in a bikini or a Playboy Bunny.

Wall-Market was coming to life when they returned to it – it seemed they'd spent quite some time in Mike's. Cloud remembered his earlier resolution to get a watch of some sort, and he glanced about at the shops and stalls, not seeing anything that struck his fancy and that didn't break the bank. He wasn't being picky – anything cheap was a mangled version of some cartoon character or other, and he wasn't about to go running around cadet training with SailorMoon beaming up at everyone from his wrist, thank you very much. He wondered how the General would look at him if he did.

_How obsessed can you __**get**__?_

He was thinking about the General _way_ too much, and he pulled himself back to reality with an effort. The others were debating what to do now, with Brian in heavy favor of just finding a not-so-smelly place to sit down and chill out and _talk._ Cloud didn't miss the way Ray, Reno, and Ralph shuddered at that word, and inwardly he smiled.

_Too many clingy girlfriends, huh?_

He'd never had a girlfriend, but he'd come to understand the instinctive need to flee that took over whenever a woman mentioned _that word._ Every time Tifa said it she was trying to get him to open up and share his burden with her, and he was a little glad that she had finally learned not to bother anymore. It was nice of her to want to listen to him, but he didn't want to talk to anyone but _him_.

_Oh for the love of God! STOP thinking about him!_

"Cloudy again." Ray and Ralph were grinning at him, and Reno just looked amused. With a jolt he realized that he had missed out on most of the conversation, and he gave them an apologetic look.

"Ralph wants to walk around some more," Ray filled him in. "Brian wants to start a campfire and have a heart-to-heart. What do _you_ wanna do?"

Cloud was at a loss. He didn't care much either way, because he was just enjoying having friends and hanging out with them – but it would sound very gay if he said that, even if he did bat for the same team – so he looked around, touching his left ear unconsciously. He missed his ear-ring.

"I know a place," Reno was nodding at him, and Cloud realized that he must have spoken aloud. He wondered exactly what he'd said, and he wondered if he'd spoken his thoughts out loud before – it went without saying that he'd have to be careful.

Brian looked scandalized. "Ear-ring? But you're a guy!"

_Last time I checked._

Cloud wondered how he'd ever been as naïve as Brian – he was pretty sure he'd been even more backward than the other cadet, because at least Brian was from Kalm. He was from _Nibelheim_, for God's sake. It was Hillbilly Central.

Reno was just rolling his eyes at the innocent cadet. "Which rock did you crawl out from under, Tranton? Didn't you notice the Brigadier General had an ear-ring? Most SOLDIERs do."

Brian was gaping at them, looking like his world had been shaken and stirred and stuffed in a blender – forget martinis; the kid's life was turning into a Margarita.

Jared smiled sweetly at Tranton. "If I get a nipple piercing, you can play with it all you like, dear."

Brian looked like he was going to throw up. Cloud took pity on him – the poor kid was still dealing with a hangover after all – and turned to Reno.

"Where's the place?"

Reno just slung his arm around Cloud's shoulders again and started walking, the others following behind them; Brian sticking close to Ray in an attempt to protect himself from Jared.

"Been thinking of getting my ears re-pierced actually," Reno started conversationally as they walked, deftly side-stepping pick-pockets and other pedestrians. "Took 'em out before I joined training coz I didn't wanna scare the mummy's boys." He looked pointedly back at Brian as he said it. "Some people think only gay pirates get ear-rings."

"Yeah, I think I'll get mine re-pierced too," Ralph piped up. "Thought cadets weren't allowed ear-rings so I took mine out before I came."

"I think you guys would look hot all pierced up," Jared chimed in saccharinely. Cloud just rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. He didn't really remember how or when he'd gotten the piercing before, but he knew he'd gotten it because Zack had had one, and he had been trying to be Zack – rather unsuccessfully, as always.

_Why are you always so depressing?_

Cloud was glad for the light-hearted banter going on around him. It lifted his spirits easily, even though the ever moody side of him simply pointed out that these kids didn't know what was waiting for them at the end of training, didn't know the horrors that every SOLDIER and Turk faced. He pushed it aside. He was going to have _fun_ with his _friends_ – it was something he'd always wanted, something he'd always dreamed of, and he'd be _damned_ before he allowed himself to spend most of the outing in the clouds.

"We're here," Reno announced, stopping before a nondescript store huddled between a pharmacy and a karaoke bar. It didn't look as though there was anyone inside, but Reno just pushed the door open and walked right in so Cloud and the others followed his lead, Brian edging in cautiously as though afraid he would get infected with HIV or some form of STD if he so much as breathed in the scent of the needles. Cloud wanted to shake his head at the paranoia the other boy was displaying, but he supposed that, given Brian's proper upbringing, the kid would've been told horror stories about guys with piercings. He offered the brown-eyed boy a reassuring smile, and was pleased when Brian smiled back, looking less nervous but no less edgy.

"Jazzy?" Reno called, leaning against the counter uncaring of the random memorabilia strewn about the glass top.

"The fuck do you want?" Cloud was surprised when a girl not much older than them stepped out from behind a beaded curtain. He wasn't surprised to see that she was tattooed and pierced, but he hadn't expected someone so young to be running a store on her own.

_Tifa ran Seventh Heaven for awhile before you rocked up._

Yeah, but Tifa was Tifa – she could do almost _anything_. And Cloud supposed he was a little sexist, not having thought it proper for a girl to be handling men's body art.

The girl – Jazzy – appeared to have recognized Reno, if the warm hug and kiss she gave him was any indication. He introduced the rest of them, and Jazzy came around from behind the counter to welcome them all rather affectionately – Brian had looked a little wary of the strange inked and pierced girl but had given in anyway.

Jazzy looked pleased with having so many pretty young customers in her store, and she said as much, drawing teasing grins from the others and slight blushes from Cloud and Brian.

_And people say I'm 'cool', _Cloud thought sardonically. He blushed like a school-girl sometimes, especially when he received honest compliments. Fighting the flush off his face, he offered Jazzy a small smile.

"Oh my God! You're _way_ too pretty! You should smile more, sweetie!" Jazzy clapped her hands, dark eyes twinkling at him and making his smile warmer despite the 'pretty' comment. Coming from her lips it didn't sound as bad as when Hojo had said it. He shoved the thought out of his mind – he really was too depressing for his own good – and rolled his eyes when Jared said that Cloud was their deflowered flower. _Pervert._

Jazzy's grin just broadened – _another_ pervert - and she ushered them into the back of the store, telling them to just plunk themselves wherever while she got her kit. Brian had given the stool in the corner a very long, very distrustful gaze, but sat on it anyway. Ray chatted with Ralph, trying to decide if he should get just one ear pierced or both, and Jared was trying to decide if he should pierce his nipple or his genitalia. Cloud wanted to laugh at the expression on Brian's face.

Reno went first, not even wincing as the gun fired twice, looking a lot more like his older self once the studs were in his reddened ears. Cloud was next, and he could tell the others were slightly surprised when he didn't even flinch as he received a stud to his left ear. He smiled slightly in thanks to Jazzy when she stepped back, and she cooed at him again. He was feeling so much more whole now with a hole in his ear – slowly but surely he was becoming the man he used to be.

Ralph got two studs in his left ear, and Ray opted for a piercing similar to Cloud's. They spent the next few minutes trying to convince Jared that a genital or nipple piercing wasn't a good idea right now – they had obstacle courses and Battle Sims, remember? – and in the end the other blond just got both ears pierced. Cloud kept silent as the others attempted to harass Brian into getting an ear-ring as well, but he was grinning slightly towards the end as Brian's innate stubbornness won out over the haranguing of his bunk-mates.

Ray insisted on paying, saying something about it being a celebration for Battle Sims, and Cloud offered him a quiet "thank you" after a moment's stunned silence. Reno gave the brunette a very long, hard look, but the awkward atmosphere was broken quickly when Jazzy demanded details of Battle Sims, and Reno indulged her - regaling her with a very colorful version of events, interrupted periodically by Ralph and Brian. Cloud got glomped by the dark-skinned girl, and he accepted her compliments with more grace than he had those of the other cadets in training.

Jazzy gave them all antiseptic drops for their fresh piercings as they left, more customers coming into her store and calling her away. Inwardly Cloud was surprised at the number of clients the body artist had – surely those who could afford it were already pierced and tattooed enough? – but he thanked her and allowed himself to be hugged again. She rather reminded him of Barret - albeit a smaller, female version - and he liked her for that.

_New faces in an old life._

"Food." Reno declared as soon as they were out of the store. Cloud's stomach rumbled and he wondered what time it was. It seemed like only minutes had passed since they'd left the barracks – he'd been enjoying himself a lot, despite the bouts of depression that made his mind resemble that of a pregnant woman's. They headed to the hoagie place again - Brian looking like he didn't know if what he was served was beef or meat from the carcass of a dog they'd passed on the way, but seeing the way the others were casually stuffing their faces he started to eat with relish, gradually regaining some of his usual color.

Jared wanted to go _shopping._

"Seriously, Fontaine, how gay can you get?" Reno had an expression of mild disgust on his face, but the image was spoiled by the grin that he couldn't contain.

Jared just preened. "I make fidelity so much easier for my men."

Cloud shook his head, smiling. He wondered how he'd make a certain someone want him and only him, but before his train of thought could go further he was poked in the side by Ralph asking for his opinion on Jared's planned Extreme Makeover program.

"Huh?" Cloud responded intelligently. "Extreme Makeover?"

Ralph rolled his eyes. "Cloudy again? How the hell do you manage to top the class in theory and kick so much ass, Strife?" He grinned at Cloud to show he was only teasing, and Cloud gave him a small smile in return. "You know, Extreme Makeover – the TV show where they turn ugly ducklings into swans."

Reno snorted. "More like pigs into bacon."

Ralph laughed. Cloud was still confused, but he assumed it was one of those shows that Tifa watched sometimes – where everyone was always sobbing and hugging. He usually ran away the minute they started.

Ray was grinning. "Back home, I'd drink every time someone cried or hugged on the show. You'd get drunk by the second commercial break, I _swear_."

Reno looked thoughtful. "That's a pretty good idea. We can do that tonight – there's still shitloads of alcohol left, right? Anyone know what's on the telly?"

Cloud wondered why Reno even bothered looking to him for answers when he was the most oblivious of the lot.

"Porn?" Jared supplied hopefully. Cloud snorted into his drink.

"Is that what they're calling propaganda nowadays?" He couldn't resist saying, grinning slightly when the others laughed – he'd actually contributed _something_ to the conversation that wasn't inane or dumb. It was a major accomplishment in his life – he was learning the Art of Conversation.

"Don't you think Cloud's butt would look good in a nice pair of jeans?" Jared had apparently figured out a way of getting everyone to agree to a shopping spree - use Cloud as a model. Brian was choking on his hoagie but no one was paying attention to the brown-eyed cadet, all their eyes focusing on where Cloud's behind was seated on a rickety plastic chair.

Cloud just raised his eyebrows at the other blond and looked down at himself. He wasn't looking _too_ shabby, even though this was his only pair of jeans and it was all washed out and worn out. He had never really cared much for casual clothes – in the future he had lived in his gear, never going anywhere in anything different. Tifa had tried to get him civilian clothes a few times – sweaters and jeans and slacks and tees – but he had very gently refused her, claiming that it was too much trouble to clean so many clothes, when in actual fact he liked staying in his usual gear because it was a second skin and because if anyone attacked he'd probably split his jeans doing some of his usual stunts. He wondered how the Triplets would have reacted if he'd ripped his pants while fighting them. Thank God he didn't wear the chocobo boxers anymore.

Reno nodded. "I know a place." It had become his catch-phrase here in the 'hood.

So Cloud's opinion was irrelevant once again. Privately he was amused at that – it seemed they only ever listened to him when it came to classes or when they were in a skirmish. All other times, he was The Blond.

Wall-Market was packed full of people as they attempted to navigate through it in a group, and Cloud was very glad for Reno's arm around his shoulders, glad for whatever reputation the red-head had that kept most pick-pockets away from them. They reached a store, and as they entered Reno was hailed by the store keeper. Cloud wondered how many people the other cadet knew – he seemed to be The Man here in the slums. Cloud was definitely moving up in the world – even under the plate.

He tried to bat Jared's hands away, but allowed the other blond to drag him around the store when the sleazy look on the proprietor's face unnerved him. Cloud _really _didn't like shopping for clothes. He could spend all day in a weapons store, would be happy to be locked in a garage, but _clothes_? Why did people need so many when having just one type of outfit made everything so much easier to coordinate? Jared was talking colors and styles and how Cloud would need at least two pairs of jeans – a come-fuck-me pair and a go-fuck-yourself pair – Cloud just stared at him.

_What category are the ones I'm wearing now_?

Reno was just sitting on a chair behind the register, watching Cloud fight off the obscenely tight piece of fabric that Jared was attempting to wheedle him into wearing, and Cloud gave the red-head a pleading look. He needed _help_ here.

Reno just shook his head, smirking. Bastard.

At length Cloud just grabbed the clothes Ray was holding out to him and ran into the changing rooms, adamantly insisting that _he was fine, Jared_, he didn't need any help changing. Jared peeked in anyway, and got a foot to his shins for his concern.

He dressed quickly, not trusting Jared not to just rip the curtains back and jump in. Chancing a glance at the mirror, he raised his eyebrows. Ray had good taste. Cloud himself had never really liked how he looked in civilian clothes, had always felt so vulnerable and exposed and _young_ in anything other than his gear, but he had to admit he looked pretty good. He wondered if this would help make fidelity easier for _him_.

Jared yanked the curtain back – the pervert – and Cloud had to endure a very long, very leering look-over from the other blond. He glanced at the others, Ray was trying to stuff Brian into an obnoxious button shirt in the del Sol style – all flowery prints and garish colors, but the brunette stopped harassing the other cadet when Cloud was yanked out of the changing rooms by Jared, who was wearing an outfit that looked like it had been poured onto him.

Reno whistled appreciatively and Cloud turned bright red. He was such a _girl_.

"Nice _work_, Johnson." Ralph slapped Ray on the back. The black-haired cadet was strutting around the store in just a very slinky pair of jeans that rode dangerously low on his hips. Cloud had never realized how well-defined the other boy was – he had _abs_.

"We're taking it," Ray announced loudly, startling the store-keeper out of his undoubtedly lecherous thoughts. Then Cloud was shoved back into the changing room and Ralph and Jared were flinging more clothes over for him to try on.

_Extreme Makeover_.

"I'm not wearing _pink_!" Cloud scowled, throwing a corset-looking thing back over the curtain.

"OK!" Jared's hand appeared around the curtain with a black version. Cloud aimed a kick at where he assumed the other boy's legs were. What kind of place _was_ this?

_Freakin' CIRCUS._

Still, he had to admit he was having a good time, even though it involved clothes. Cloud had never really gone shopping before – back in Nibelheim his mother would periodically bring home some new pieces or make them for him, and in the future Tifa would just randomly try to give him outfits. Now that he thought about it, he really _had_ missed out on so much growing up, and it was slightly bittersweet being here.

Reno had decided to join the parade, wearing a pair of tight black pants and a white shirt that made him look so much like the Turk he would become that Cloud just stared. Reno took it as a compliment, winking at him and doing a little twirl. The twit. Even Brian had been coerced into donning a pair of ripped jeans and a tee that was proclaiming something obscene, complete with pictures. Cloud snorted, and Jared just groped the brown-eyed cadet.

By the time they paid for their purchases – Ray again footing the bill despite Cloud's protests and Reno's glaring – Cloud was _exhausted_. He was beginning to understand how girls stayed so slim – pulling on and taking off clothing after clothing was a _very_ strenuous activity. Jared just gave the brunette a sloppy kiss for being such a sweet sugar-daddy.

They wandered back to the station, Cloud listening to the others chatting away happily. They were saying something about a club and dancing – Cloud wondered at that. Weren't clubs more of sit-down societies where people shared a common interest? He hadn't been aware of any dancing clubs in camp, but was glad he didn't voice his ignorance when Brian was mercilessly insulted for voicing his.

When they got back to the barracks Jared wanted to start a fashion show. Cloud glared at him – he was a _fighter_, not a human hanger – so the other blond just contented himself with telling everyone how absolutely _gorgeous_ Cloud looked in his new clothes, and how they'd all missed out by languishing in their bunks trying to get over their hangovers. Cloud let the other cadet have his revenge, glad that their bunkmates weren't fool enough to try to get him to put on his new outfits and parade around the place. Ray had already started drinking, pulling out several bottles of whisky from his locker and throwing Cloud, Reno and Ralph one each. Jared was trying to find the rum and whining about how it was gone. Grant commented on the ear-rings they were sporting, and Jared launched into how he had wanted to get a genital piercing and how the other meanies thought he wouldn't be able to get on his hands and knees in the mud if he had one. Cloud rolled his eyes. Some of their other bunkmates had taken to the idea of group-piercings – why was everyone so _dodgy_? – and there was talk about going under the plate tomorrow to visit Jazzy's store so the rest of them could get ear-rings too.

Reno was turning into a tour-guide.

Someone mentioned how Cloud seemed to be the last person who'd look so good with an ear-ring – he supposed it was a compliment, but he didn't honestly care. He missed his usual piece, and as soon as he could he'd see about getting it made again.

Dinner was hot dogs, and Cloud actually managed to eat three, surprised at how hungry he was. He wondered if he could sneak into the instructors' lounge tonight and steal a watch while everyone else got drunk again – but realized he wouldn't be able to when Reno told everyone about the drinking game they'd be playing tonight in the cadet lounge. Apparently there was some show called 'Biggest Loser' on TV tonight – Cloud wondered how the red-head came to be so familiar with TV shows. The slums didn't exactly get any sort of media communication except for the usual Shinra propaganda, but he remembered that most people under the plate had managed to tap into the signals from above – still, Reno had never come across as the couch potato type, even if he _was_ a lazy bastard.

Ray was right – it _was _possible to get drunk by the second commercial break. Why was everyone crying non-stop?

Eventually the program ended, and some family movie started. Cloud just sat there listening to the others diss the characters and the plot – and then diss Brian for sniffling slightly at some clichéd 'deep moment' - content to sip from his bottle and soak in the comfortable atmosphere. He had never felt this at peace, not even in Seventh Heaven, and he supposed it probably had something to do with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. Not that he was complaining – he was rather enjoying the carefree feeling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so light – the closest he'd come to it had been when he'd beaten the Triplets and woken up in the church.

He'd visit Aeris tomorrow, he decided. If he could walk. The way Reno was looking at him indicated they'd be spending most of the night in the bathrooms again, not that Cloud was complaining. Weekends were for letting loose, and Cloud was rather glad he had someone to help so readily with his needs here. It certainly made things easier for him – it was uncomplicated, unemotional, safe. He wondered if Reno knew how much he appreciated their straightforward relationship. The red-head was being unnaturally nice to him though – what with the free butterfly knife last week, and the thoughtfulness he'd been displaying – and Cloud wondered what was up with that. He really hoped Reno wasn't starting to _like _him or anything – it would mess things up considerably, because Cloud didn't want to make an enemy of the other boy or hurt his feelings, even if Reno was the once-and-future-Turk. Cloud would just have to watch out – he knew Reno didn't do anything for nothing, and this uncommon kindness was a bit suspicious – especially because so few people had given anything freely to Cloud. Even Zack had had a last request in exchange for saving his life.

Cloud kicked himself mentally. How ungrateful could he _get_? Zack had saved his _life_, and here he was whining about how nobody ever gave him something for nothing. What was _wrong_ with him? He'd become so ridiculously self-centered, thinking the world revolved around him and his misery, and it just wasn't like him. He really needed to get his head on straight. Nibelheim was approaching, slowly but surely, and Cloud needed to figure out how he was going to stop it. He didn't have time to think about how pitiful his life had been – he was _here_, wasn't he? He had a chance to start over, a chance to change things, and if the way Zack had been behaving in the infirmary was any indication it seemed they were fumbling their way towards friendship again. Cloud wasn't going to screw that up for anything.

_Anything?_

He ignored the insidious voice in his head, pushing away the mental image of stunning green eyes and a regal bearing, and focused on the talk going on around him. He accepted the bag of chips that Ralph handed to him, a little touched at the other cadet's thoughtfulness, and laughed when Jared balanced a chip on Brian's ear and ate it off him. Poor Brian looked like he was close to tears.

The others stumbled back to their bunks a few hours later, drunk but not as sotted as they'd been the night before. They _were_ planning to go under the plate as a group tomorrow after all. Cloud just walked off to the bathroom, surprised when Jared, Reno, Ray and Ralph followed his lead. He didn't know how he felt about a group thing – was honestly a bit freaked out – but luckily Reno pulled him into their usual stall and locked the door before Cloud did something stupid. Over the sounds of the shower, Cloud could hear Jared – and it sounded like the other blond was having a _very _good time. He had never been a voyeur, never liked watching because he was a private person who didn't like being watched himself, but he had to admit that the sounds were a definite turn-on. It seemed Reno had been expecting that, if his rough treatment and hasty preparation was any indication.

The pitchers were having an inter-stall competition. Cloud would have rolled his eyes if they weren't already rolled back in pleasure as all coherent thought was being shagged out of his mind.

Later, Ray had to help Reno support Cloud back to the bunks - the blond would have been mortified if he wasn't feeling so numbed. His mind was blank, free from his usual depressing thoughts, and the whiny voice in his head was apparently suffering from the same hoarseness of throat that Cloud himself was. He liked this empty serenity, and thanked Reno and Ray quietly as they settled him onto his bunk. He didn't wince, but then again he couldn't feel anything, as usual, and he lay back with a contented sigh, pulling his covers over himself and mumbling a sleepy "good night" back to the others. Ralph had already joined the snore-chestra.

Cloud dreamt of Fenrir that night. He missed his baby.

-----

Sephiroth was standing in his kitchen, sipping at a cup of coffee, when he heard the tell-tale approach of one Brigadier General Zack Fair – because no one else would be able to access his penthouse so freely, and especially not on a Sunday morning. A few seconds later, the elevator dinged, and Zack wandered into the luxurious home, looking exhausted but satisfied. Sephiroth didn't need to ask.

He nodded to the First when he was greeted with a sleepy "mornin'", but tilted his head to the side slightly in query. Zack was never here this early – would usually only appear later in the evening with some DVDs and popcorn – which meant he hadn't slept yet (Sephiroth was sure Zack had already gone to bed, but there was definitely no rest for the wicked _there_). The dark-haired SOLDIER just sighed, pouring himself a cup of sugar and adding coffee to it. He was lucky Mako was said to prevent diabetes.

Sephiroth just steeled himself for the inevitable sugar-rush.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and started counting.

"I saw Cloud heading out with his friends," Zack grinned. "He looked _good._"

_Three seconds slower than last time. His tolerance is rising._

He wondered what would happen if Zack went cold-turkey. One day if he was curious or bored enough he might just run all over Midgar and obliterate every packet and every grain of the stuff just to see the effect it'd have on Zack.

"It looks like he's got plenty of friends now, you know?" Zack helped himself to a second cup of sugar and coffee. Sephiroth wondered why he kept any of the sweet stuff in his kitchen when he didn't actually use it, but then again he didn't buy his own groceries; it was all handled by Shinra.

He wondered why Zack was telling him about Strife. Bad enough he'd dreamt of the cadet again last night and the night before – he didn't need to hear the boy's name when he was awake. But if he said anything, if he asked Zack not to speak of the cadet, then the First would know that something was up and then Sephiroth would be in Big Trouble.

"He's got an ear-ring now," Zack said, sipping slowly and watching him intently. Sephiroth wondered why – it wasn't like he had an ear-ring fetish. Although for a split-second there he'd wondered how Strife would look with an ear-ring.

_He'd look good._

Sephiroth was very glad for his world-famous control. He didn't know what he would have done or said otherwise. Why was he thinking like this about a cadet? For that matter, why was he even thinking about a cadet at all?

_Because Zack won't shut up about him._

He resolutely ignored the voice in his head that screamed 'denial'. He was only twenty-five and male; and Mako kicked libidos into over-drive – it wasn't as though he actually _felt_ anything for the boy, but only a blind man wouldn't have found the small blond arresting.

Sephiroth turned and walked toward the living room, listening to the sounds of Zack rifling through his refrigerator and smirking slightly when the First started grumbling about how there was nothing unhealthy in there. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and Sephiroth didn't appreciate being reminded of the cadet every time he saw Zack.

He frowned at that.

That was it – the cadet, Strife, bore an uncanny resemblance to Zack. Not by way of personality, no, they were poles apart there, but in the way the blond moved and fought. True, Strife changed his combat style to match his opponents, but there was an undercurrent still, an underlying personal style that was distinctively Strife's – and which resembled Zack's rather strongly. Sephiroth wondered at that. Zack would not have trained the cadet personally without his permission – the man was as irreverent and irresponsible as they came but he would never go behind Sephiroth's back like that – so how had Strife suddenly acquired a style so similar to Zack's? It might even have something to do with this jump in improvement, because Zack was capable and quite talented, and if Strife was manifesting or developing or copying Zack's traits then it would explain quite a lot. Except for one thing – how and when had Strife suddenly gained this Zack-ability?

He really wished he could just order the cadet into his office and interrogate him.

He sat himself on the sofa and debated turning the TV on, but he didn't want to see more Shinra propaganda, and if he started watching CSI now he'd never make it to the office today.

It wasn't like the TV could help him tune Zack out anyway.

Zack joined him eventually with a plate laden with buttered toast. The First simply threw himself onto the sofa, stretching his legs out and dirtying the pristine material with his shoes. Sephiroth ignored him.

"I was gonna talk to him today." Zack was munching rather loudly and getting crumbs everywhere, but Sephiroth pretended not to notice. He didn't have to clean his own place anyway; there were perks to being General. "But I think I'll wait till tomorrow or something. Let him have fun with his friends." Out of the corner of his eye Sephiroth could see Zack was looking at him. He kept his face carefully blank as he sipped quietly at his rapidly cooling coffee.

"He's pretty tight with that red-head, Reno." Zack was watching him intently now, if that deliberately even tone of voice was any indication. Sephiroth just continued staring at his coffee.

"I think they're sleeping together." That information, combined with the casual way it was delivered, had Sephiroth's eyebrow rising slightly. Why would Zack think he'd care about something like that? It wasn't as though he was going to court-martial them or punish them for under-aged sex – not when he himself had indulged in it as a teenager. Males had needs, and that was that.

_And all red-heads have NEEDS._

He resisted the urge to frown slightly at another explanation for Zack's behavior. Was the First actually trying to get him to think of the cadet _that _way? It would certainly explain the incessant Strife-talk, and the mentions of the blond's looks and friends and sex-life. But why would Zack think that Sephiroth would be interested in the cadet? He was sure he hadn't given anything away, had deliberately ignored Zack most of the time whenever the First spoke about Strife, had kept his opinions and observations strictly professional.

Then it hit him and he nearly groaned.

This was all part of Zack's stupid plan to make him happy.

_Zachary, you idiot._

For some reason his Brigadier General had decided that Strife would be a good candidate for his Grand Plan. It certainly explained the blond-haired blue-eyed SOLDIERs and army grunts that the First kept introducing to Sephiroth. Zack had long ago stopped trying to get him to date before bedding – the General would usually just get annoyed with the insipidity of his partners and call the whole thing off. Sephiroth preferred it this way – uncomplicated, easy, and emotionless. He neither wanted nor needed a more permanent partner – he didn't have time for all the niceties of relationships, not with his work that either shackled him to his desk or took him out to the field for extended periods of time. He wasn't concerned about not being able to provide for anyone – he was The General after all – and he wasn't concerned about his partner suffering in the event of his untimely death – he was The General after all, and if he _did_ die on a mission his sizeable estate would go to whoever he'd named anyway – but he just wasn't interested in pursuing something like that. It was too much of a headache, too much to think about, too many variables that he wasn't trained to handle, too much Technicolor when Sephiroth preferred things black and white. 99% of the time he was The Man, 1% of the time he was A Man, and that was that. Nice and easy.

"I thought we might train tomorrow."

Sephiroth hid a smirk as Zack tensed imperceptibly at that announcement. He knew it wouldn't stop the First's asinine machinations, but at least Sephiroth would have ample reason to beat him to a pulp In The Name of Training.

_Boom._

-----

Cloud managed to sneak away as the group was approaching Jazzy's shop, Jared having started up again with the nipple piercing and Grant and some cadets from another bunker trying to decide if they should get themselves inked as well. It was a large group, large enough to turn heads everywhere they went, and Cloud was able to get away easily in the commotion, get lost in the crowd of Wall-Market and head quickly to the church. He knew he didn't have very long, but he really wanted to see Aeris.

He half-jogged to the church, proud that his private training was paying off when he reached the familiar doors without breathing any faster than normal. He didn't stop to think, didn't stop to debate with himself as he had the last time, just pushing the door open and walking straight towards the flower-bed.

She was kneeling among the lilies, looking like an angel in God's garden, and Cloud just wanted to sink to his knees in silence. He'd really missed her.

She turned to look at him, that brilliant smile making her eyes dance as she rose, arms outstretched as she neared him and he just hugged her, letting her kiss him on the cheek and just taking in the scent of her life and her love.

_I missed you._

At length she pulled back slightly, sweet smile still in place even as she admonished him for not coming to see her last week. He smiled weakly at that but didn't explain or excuse himself, simply saying that he'd do better from now on. Aeris just laughed and said he needed to lighten up.

He'd really, really missed her.

They sat themselves on a nearby pew, and Cloud was content to just sit there with her and bask in the warmth of her attention forever, but he remembered that he didn't have much time, that there were almost two bunkers of cadets in Wall-Market who would realize he was missing and probably come looking for him soon, so he forced himself to talk.

"Is Reno from the future too?"

Aeris looked thrown, if the confused look in her eyes and the way she cocked her head was any indication.

_Guess that's a 'no' then._

He shook his head, silently telling her that it had been a dumb question that didn't deserve an answer. She just gave him that motherly, amused smile that had always been in her voice whenever she spoke to his heart.

"Do the others know?" This had been weighing on him for awhile, and, even though he probably wouldn't like the answer, he went ahead and asked anyway. "Tifa, Barret, Cid, Reeve, Vincent. Do they know?"

Aeris held his eyes for one very long moment before she nodded. He sank back marginally, breath he hadn't known he was holding leaving him in one long gush that made her hair flit slightly. He didn't know how he felt about that, didn't know why he'd even asked, didn't know why he wanted to know. It shouldn't matter anyway – he was here, and he was going to change things.

A gentle hand on his cheek brought him back to the present, and he looked at her. Her green eyes were worried and loving, her face in that familiar concerned expression, and he tried to force a smile for her benefit, just because angels shouldn't be anything but happy. He could tell from the look on her face that it wasn't successful.

"Things are going well for you?" Her voice held a tinge of worry, and he hastened to reassure her.

"They're going great," he said firmly. "I've got people to hang out with now, and some of the guys made me CO during Battle Simulation." Then he thought of something that might cheer her up. "We won, you know? Beat eight SOLDIER Thirds and a bunch of other cadets, and not one of my team got hit."

She smiled proudly, eyes shining brilliantly at him, and that invincible feeling from Friday morning came back. He felt unstoppable, omnipotent here in this world that was just him and Aeris and her flowers in an old church. He wished he didn't have to leave her, but he had to make this quick in case the others found them. He really didn't want those barbarians anywhere near his princess.

"Zack and I spoke a few times," he was surprised at the slight flash of _something_ in her eyes at the mention of the SOLDIER's name, but it had been too quick for him to catch. He opened his mouth to ask her about it, but something else came out instead. "You haven't met him yet? Here?"

Aeris shook her head, and his heart nearly broke at the slightly lonely expression on her face. He kicked himself mentally. Here he'd been putting himself first, thinking about his own enjoyment and hanging out with his own friends, when she didn't have anyone but her adopted mother and her memories. He was a selfish, selfish bastard, and he suddenly hated himself with a vengeance. He would do better. For her, he would only allow himself to be invincible.

"Back then," she started, startling him out of his self-recrimination, "We met before he was First Class." She smiled wistfully, and his heart clenched. "But here he already is, isn't he?"

She looked so small and sad then, so much like the little girl she physically was that he reacted instinctively, reaching out and pulling her close to him in a gruff hug, awkwardly running a hand up and down her back in an attempt to comfort her. It seemed to be working, because she relaxed and hugged him back, tucking her face in the crook of his neck as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

She smelled like love, hope, and faith.

He didn't want to pull away, didn't want to have to go, but she seemed to sense his urgency and she drew back, standing up. He stood with her, because he didn't want to let go as long as he could help it, and he hated himself for choosing his friends over a woman who loved him unconditionally yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

She seemed to sense that as well, because she just smiled again, twining her arms around his neck and giving him another one of those beautiful hugs that he would never take for granted again.

"Go, Cloud," her voice was muffled slightly by his neck. "Have fun. You're only fifteen, and it's Sunday. You can be the man you really are later, you can worry about Sephiroth and Zack and me _later_; but for now, do me a favor?" She leaned back, eyes gentle and teasing, and he smiled. He would do anything for her, and she knew it. "Live, laugh, love, and learn."

His brow furrowed slightly at that – did she always have to speak like a sage? – but then he remembered that she was a Cetra after all, and they had a reputation to maintain. He nodded, smiling because she was giving him one of those dazzling beams meant to befuddle everyone so she could get her way. She really was too sneaky sometimes. He wondered if she'd gotten it from Zack, after all the time they'd spent together in the Lifestream watching him.

The thought was sobering.

"I just," his voice wavered embarrassingly, "I just don't want to see you hurt." _Again._

She rolled her eyes at him in exasperation, but her voice was smiling even as she attempted to reproach him. "Cloud Strife, I _swear_ you are the most difficult man on the Planet – and I've known plenty of difficult men in the Lifestream."

_Did that mean..?_

He wanted to say it, wanted to voice his question, but his throat had decided not to cooperate.

_Aeris knew Sephiroth?_

She seemed to know what he was thinking, and he wondered if it was because he was wearing his heart on his sleeve and his dreams on his face.

"Yes, I've spoken to him." Her eyes never left his. "I just feel so sorry for him." She sighed, and the action reminded him that he wasn't breathing. He forced himself to expel the breath he'd been holding and inhale, almost seeing stars after such prolonged abstinence from air.

"Cloud." Her hands tightened slightly, eyes gazing intently into his, and she seemed to be willing him to agree with her. "Don't let history repeat itself."

He nodded. That went without saying.

Her hold relaxed, and the tension left her shoulders as she smiled up at him again.

"Have you spoken to him?" Her eyes were curious now, the eyes of a teasing sister wanting to know about a brother's attempts at a relationship with the love of his life, and he flushed slightly, mumbling a response that he hoped sounded like a 'no'. Sister or no, it was _embarrassing_.

She shook her head in mock-disappointment, grinning at him playfully and making him smile back at her even though he wished she would change the topic. Aeris could get away with murder as far as he was concerned - she was too perfect to refuse.

"Cloud, if you don't tell him your feelings, how will he ever know?" She laughed at his mortified expression, and he wished the little garden of flowers would become the little lake so he could just sink into it and hide. But then that would just remind him of the future, and the Triplets, and killing Sephiroth twice. He kicked himself mentally.

_Quit being so damned depressing._

"Cloud," Aeris was giving him _that_ look again, "You have another chance now." The smile disappeared. "Don't hold back. I don't want to watch you suffer again." Her eyes were serious, sad, pained. He _never_ wanted to see that expression on her face.

"I won't mess up, Aeris," he hastened to reassure her, _anything_ to make her smile again. "I won't let you down again." Instantly he knew it had been a mistake to say that, because she frowned at him, lips tightening.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I never blamed you?" She was _glaring_ at him. _Glaring_. At him. He wanted to shoot himself.

As it was he just hung his head in shame. He knew better than to bring _that_ up with her, because it only upset the two of them.

_Stupid, STUPID, tactless idiot_.

Aeris huffed, warm breath ghosting over his face and making him ache with this further proof of his second chance.

"You big baby." There was only fondness in her tone, and the touch of her hand on his head was gentle. "All you SOLDIERs think you have to take care of everyone, don't you?" He could hear laughter in her voice, and he raised his head to look at her, because he didn't ever want to be able to forget the curve of her lips or the shadow of thick eye-lashes on high cheekbones as she smiled.

"Well, now that you're back here in the past, maybe you _can_ take care of everyone." Her teasing smile was back, but her eyes and her voice were so full of pride that his heart swelled. All his accomplishments in the future, all the times he'd killed to save the world, all of it meant _nothing_ without the acknowledgment of the three people he cared for most, the three that had died thanks to him: one for him, one because he'd been too weak, and one he'd killed himself. Twice.

"There you are."

Cloud whirled around quickly, placing himself in between Aeris and that familiar voice, one hand automatically reaching for First Tsurugi - finding nothing but air in place of his beloved sword and remembering that he was in the past, and Reno was just a fellow cadet. He cursed himself though – his instinctive reaction had not gone unnoticed by Reno, who was leaning casually against the frame of the church doors.

He wondered how long the red-head had been standing there.

_How much did he hear?_

Fear seized him, and he tensed imperceptibly, readying himself for battle should he need to silence the other boy. He couldn't let anyone know – he'd kill if he had to, friendship be damned. He wasn't going to let this second chance be taken away from him by a nosy bunkmate.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was cold even to his ears, and he subtly pushed Aeris back but she stubbornly refused to move, placing a delicate hand on his left bicep in her usual way.

_Ancients._

Reno just raised an eyebrow, sauntering in jauntily. He stopped several feet away though, out of Cloud's immediate reach.

_Once a Turk, always a Turk._

"I told the others to save us seats at lunch," Reno finally replied. His tone was casual, but Cloud could see the red-head was prepared for a fight, if the way he'd shifted his weight was any indication. "Came looking for you as soon as I could coz you'd disappeared without telling anyone where you were going."

Reno's eyes were giving nothing away, and Cloud wished Aeris would just do as he wanted, _for once in their lives_, and back away so he could beat an answer out of the other cadet. But she clung to him resolutely, telling him in her subtle way that Reno was not the enemy, that he meant them no harm, and he wished he had her faith in humanity.

At length Reno looked over Cloud's shoulder and smiled disarmingly.

"I'm Reno, by the way. I'm Cloud's bunkmate in the cadet program." His smile widened when Aeris stepped out from behind Cloud, approaching him with her hand out-stretched and ready smile on her own lips.

_No! It's too dangerous, Aeris! Remember what happened last time?_

Cloud wanted to scream, wanted to run forward and drag her back, take her someplace safe, somewhere far away from Shinra and Sephiroth and the future Turk, but it would be too suspicious, especially if Reno hadn't heard anything incriminating and had really just come to get him for lunch.

"I'm Aeris," she smiled sweetly at the other boy. "Pleased to meet you, Reno. Cloud's mentioned you, and I'm glad he's got such good friends."

Reno raised an eyebrow at that, looking past her to where Cloud was still standing motionless but ready to move in a heartbeat.

Aeris turned back to Cloud. "I shouldn't keep you. I'll see you soon?" She cocked her head and smiled, as gentle and unassuming as ever except for The Look in her eyes. Cloud nodded stiffly, moving forward to kiss her on both cheeks before grabbing Reno's arm and hauling him out of there. The red-head turned as they were leaving to call a jaunty good-bye to Aeris and she replied laughingly. Cloud wanted to hurt somebody.

As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Reno yanked his arm away, turning to Cloud.

"Who's she?" There was something in the red-head's eyes, some sort of hidden knowledge that Cloud wasn't privy to that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. How much did Reno know?

"She's like a sister to me," Cloud replied at last, lifting his chin challengingly.

_Throw-down._

Reno held his eyes for one very long moment, searching for something, though what it was Cloud didn't know.

"All your family under Turk surveillance?"

_What?!_

Cloud's eyes widened and he spun around, searching the area but seeing nothing but the usual rubble and filth. Turk surveillance? On Aeris? But that meant that Shinra knew about her, knew where to find her, so why was she still free in the slums? Why wasn't she locked up in the lab?

He couldn't find anyone, couldn't spot the dark suit or glint of shades, and he turned back to glare at Reno.

_Is this a joke?_

"Explain," Cloud said dangerously. Heaven help the red-head if he'd been playing a prank on Cloud. When it came to Aeris, there were _limits_.

Reno was looking at him oddly, as though he didn't quite believe that Cloud hadn't known but unable to refute the proof of the blond's ignorance. At length the red-head nodded, stepping back slightly so that they weren't in each others' faces.

"I've seen them around, watching her," Reno answered, the tension leaving his body in a subtle gesture meant to placate Cloud, but the blond didn't bite. "They've never approached her, far as I can tell, so I think she's just being watched by Shinra."

_She's the last Cetra after all._

Cloud frowned slightly at that. An image of a brown-haired woman wielding a crimson shuriken had suddenly popped into mind, but the only shuriken wielder he knew was Yuffie, and she had black hair.

Who was that other woman then? Was it someone Zack knew? Didn't that mean that Zack knew Aeris was a Cetra? So why hadn't he said anything to Sephiroth – who'd believed himself to be an Ancient when he'd first found Jenova? Why hadn't Shinra corrected their assumption about Jenova, if they knew that Aeris was a true Cetra?

Reno was still looking at him oddly. "You really didn't know?"

Cloud shook his head, too stunned by this sudden revelation to do anything more. He supposed, given how quickly the Turks had taken Aeris before, it made sense that they had been watching her for awhile before that.

_Does she know_?

Cloud wondered if Aeris would have told him either way.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was all a bit too much, he mused. Why was everything so bloody complicated? Why couldn't anyone just fucking _tell _him what was going on?

Reno slung an arm around his shoulders and Cloud tensed, but the red-head was simply leading him away subtly.

"You should stay away from her," Reno said quietly, green eyes flicking around them in the practiced way Vincent did whenever he thought he was being watched. "It's not good to get tangled up in Shinra business you don't know jack shit about. The Turks aren't like SOLDIER, you know?" At this the red-head gave him a meaningful look, and suddenly Cloud understood. _Reno was looking out for him_. It was so bizarre, so completely unexpected that Cloud didn't know if he wanted to laugh hysterically or smile with gratitude. He settled for just nodding his head and it seemed to satisfy Reno a bit, because the red-head grinned at him, eyes lighting up with mischief, and Cloud wondered if he should start running. "So, you sneaky SOB, you've been hiding a babe from the rest of us, huh?" He ruffled Cloud's hair as he said it, and Reno was lucky Cloud was still reeling from everything that had happened – the red-head would be in serious _pain _otherwise.

Cloud just rolled his eyes. "Why would I introduce my sister to you monkeys?" He ducked out quickly from the arm around his shoulders, escaping the head-slap from Reno.

The red-head grinned, shaking his head. "Monkeys, huh?" He leaned in closer until their lips were almost touching. "The way we _fuck_, Strife, I'd have thought we were more like rabbits." Reno laughed out loud when Cloud's traitorous skin flushed slightly as the warm breath on his lips brought forth mental images of their weekend routines. Then the familiar arm was back around his shoulders, and Reno was leading Cloud back towards Wall-Market.

They walked in easy silence for awhile, and Cloud was glad for it – he needed to process this new information, needed to sort out his memories from Zack's, needed to calm himself down because the fear still wouldn't leave him. It had been terrifying - that one moment when he'd thought he'd been found out, when he'd thought that Reno had learned his secret - and he wondered how, if ever, he was going to explain this to Sephiroth or Zack when the time came. He wasn't fool enough to believe they wouldn't figure something out eventually; he knew it was wishful thinking to hope that everything would be hunky-dory and he could just make like everything was normal. But that didn't make the knowledge of what he'd probably have to do any less frightening.

"I won't tell."

Reno's somber tone, so very different from his usual flippant one, broke the silence and startled Cloud out of his reverie. He glanced up at the taller boy, catching Reno's steady gaze. Why would Reno offer to keep all this secret? What did he _want_?

_He's just looking out for you._

It was such an alien notion, such a foreign concept, that Cloud struggled to comprehend the weight of those three simple words. Reno was offering a lot more than secrecy, and they both knew it. It was staggering, inconceivable, and Cloud didn't quite know how to react.

_It's not like he said 'I love you' or anything. Get a fucking grip._

That thought kicked him back to reality, and he noted how Reno's gaze hadn't wavered. They'd been walking through some smaller alley when they'd stopped, and Cloud was glad that there was no one else around to witness the uncomfortable Hallmark moment.

He nodded at Reno, even though mentally he still didn't quite know if he was ready to accept the consequences of this…this _thing_, this _friendship_, that Reno was offering him.

"I know."

_Signed, sealed, delivered._

It was decided – they were friends.

*****

**A/N (1):** Yes, a few Pirates of the Caribbean references – what with the rum and the boat over their heads and the "opportune moment" line – **Risikaa** put that particular quote in my head and it wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to have fun with it.

**A/N (2):** Vermillion Line – the line right in the middle of the forehead running from the hairline down between the eyes – taken off the SWAT extended edition, where Sgt Hondo is telling Sanchez where to aim her shots.

**A/N (3):** "Wow, is that a new course record?" - when Cloud announces his team has won is from the movie SWAT, uttered by Sgt Hondo once Jim Street and his team successfully complete their SWAT qualification test.

**A/N (4):** "Good times, great taste" – the old McDonald's jingle, before the current "I'm lovin' it" campaign took over.

**A/N (5):** I mean absolutely no disrespect to Extreme Makeover or Biggest Loser – I've watched those several times myself. (And I played that drinking game a few times.)

**A/N (6):** I made reference to "The Once and Future King" by T.H. White with the phrase 'the once-and-future-Turk'. In White's book, Merlin is an old man living through time backwards – notice the parallels?

**A/N (7):** Marine jargon and references have been used liberally – again I say I mean no disrespect whatsoever. Here's an explanation of some of the less common terms.

_Reveille_: wake-up call.

_Scuttlebutt_: Marine slang for water-cooler gossip.

_Deuce gears_ a.k.a. _782 gears_: standard issue field equipment, including the ILBE packs.

_ILBE _(Improved Load Bearing Equipment): Marine packs that include individual load carriage equipment, individual hydration systems, and individual water purification.

_DD Form_ a.k.a. _Form 782_: the form that Marines sign when taking custody and responsibility for their equipment.

_Maggot_: Drill Instructor's affectionate name for recruits.

Holding one hand perpendicular to your brows is a hand-sign for 'watch' or 'look-out'.

Holding your hand up in a fist is a hand-sign for 'wait' or 'hold'.

**A/N (8):** **Oniko** reminded me that each fighter has their own individual style, and that since Cloud's is so similar to Zack's Sephiroth should have picked up on it – thank you for that. It helps make the story so much more realistic, and I'm grateful for the gentle reminder.

**A/N (9):** This chapter is very heavily Cloud and his friends – I realize the Sephiroth and Zack fans might feel a little put out, but I figured it was time Cloud had some fun.

**A/N (10):** Almost 26,000 words. Good grief.


	6. Chapter 6

**Almost Karma**

**By BluWhispers**

**Chapter 6**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.

**Warnings:** Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

**A/N (1): **Sorry for the late update guys. Real Life got in the way majorly. Still, a big thank you to everyone – new readers and old - when I saw that I'd passed the 300-review mark I was ecstatic! Thank you for sticking by me, and thank you to those who messaged me asking if I was alive – I'm so very very sorry for the hiatus – as an avid reader myself I know how much it sucks to have fics that I follow go without updates for extended periods of time. Thank you for understanding!

**A/N (2):** **Axiam** recommended a picture on DeviantArt after reading the Sephiroth as Superman bit last chapter. For anyone who's interested, go to DeviantArt and search "Sephiroth secret". You'll know which one I'm talking about. **Twilight's Aura** informed me that the guy who voices Sephiroth (English version) also voices Superman on Cartoon Network – I had NO idea, but it seems to just cement the image of Sephiroth as Superman.

**A/N (3): Darkspider** bought me Fenrir ear-rings and a whole load of Cloud and Seph stuff! This chapter is for you, hun! I'm sorry I've been MIA – I just haven't had time for anything!

**A/N (4):** I don't know how many of you are aware of this.** Cloud Strife Perfume. **That's all I'm saying on it. OK never mind I'll say it again** – Cloud Strife Perfume. **Seriously.

/Reno and Rude were in Seventh Heaven. Drinking.

Well, Reno was doing most of the imbibing. Rude was just keeping his partner out of trouble – the red-head had been a bit weird lately, even by usual Reno standards, so Tseng had kicked the two of them out and told them to go hunker down at their usual watering-hole. It went without saying that Rude was supposed to monitor AVALANCHE as well.

"Where's my ear-ring?"

Rude flicked his eyes over to Reno. The red-head was touching his right ear, looking around them as though he expected to find something twinkling back up at him. Rude's brow furrowed slightly more than usual.

"You're wearing it." He nodded meaningfully towards the vicinity of Reno's left ear. Hopefully the red-head would understand – he was denser than usual these days.

Reno looked confused. "No, I'm not. I have _two_ ear-rings man."

_Two? _

Rude racked his brain. Reno had been his partner since the red-head had joined the Turks – it had been meant as punishment for pissing Cissnei off; sic him with the loud-mouthed rookie and watch the red-head make them both look like idiots. Rude had all but resigned himself to a career of humiliation, degradation, and early retirement; but Reno had proven himself surprisingly astute and handy in a fight. They made for a good team – Reno could always be counted on to do something obnoxiously ridiculous, but the younger man always got the job done. He just had fun doing it. It was something Rude had come to respect and like about his street-smart colleague, and he had fought tooth and nail to have Reno retained as his partner when the hood-rat's probation was over.

Reno had only ever had one ear-ring.

"You've never had two ear-rings, Reno." He explained patiently, signaling Tifa for another drink. She nodded absent-mindedly, moving to fix it even as her eyes were fixed on the door. No need to ask who she was hoping to walk into the bar. Rude had long ago accepted that she would never return his feelings, but that didn't mean he couldn't stop looking at her and wishing she would just get over a certain angsty swordsman.

Reno was still touching his right ear, and panic was beginning to seep into his eyes. "No, man. I _swear_ I've always had two."

A glass was slid across the bar, and Rude caught it instinctively. He was a regular here because Reno was a regular here, and every time Rude came to collect his perpetually promiscuous partner he'd get suckered into having a drink – which would turn into One Wild Night and the next day Tseng would have a cow.

"Reno, we've been partners for years," he took a sip. It was perfect, as usual. "Only your left ear is pierced." There was the matter of a nipple piercing that had been yanked off rather painfully by a pissed off prostitute, but Rude had been pinky-sworn to secrecy on that. It Never Happened.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn'd._

Reno's breathing was speeding up now. Rude turned to look at him, concerned. It seemed the red-head was serious and seriously sotted (and mind-fucked because of some time-bending but Rude was practicing Selective Amnesia just like his anger management therapist told him to). Rude thought hard – he was an observant man, naturally perceptive, and he noticed everything. It was why he made such a fine Turk. But he was absolutely certain that Reno had never had two ear-rings.

This was all Strife's doing.

_Fucking emo blondie. _

While Spiky was running around gettin' his freak on in the past, Rude was stuck here dealing with a hyperventilating-and-incredibly-sotted Reno.

_Blondes._

"Well, you're not wearing it now." He figured the best thing to do was try to calm Reno down, puzzle it out logically. Never mind that Reno was pretty drunk out of his mind – the red-head had been drinking mojito after mojito steadily for the past seven hours – and naturally incapable of rational thinking. They could work this out; they were _partners_.

Never mind that Reno was having an identity crisis of Strifean proportions. Rude was starting to believe that blondness was infectious.

Strife really grew on you.

"You remember what happened to it?" He was facing Reno completely now, keeping his body-language relaxed and open, as one would a frightened child. Because that was exactly what Reno looked like now – terrified out of his fucking mind by all the mind-fucking Strife's time-traveling was doing. The next time Rude saw Strife, somebody was gonna get hurt _real_ bad.

Reno frowned, looking around the bar although his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Even Tifa had stopped staring at the door and had turned to look at them now, brow furrowed. No one had ever seen Reno anything less than self-assured; the red-head was the resident jack-ass, and this side of Reno was rather scary in its vulnerability.

"I…" Reno frowned harder, and Rude could see he was trying his best to remember, pinching his ear-lobe so hard his entire right ear had gone white. "I don't know." He raised wide green eyes at Rude then, and the bald Turk nearly fell off his bar-stool.

Reno was shit-scared.

In that one instant, the red-head had looked sixteen years old; young and inexperienced the way he'd been when they'd first met, though without the trademark cockiness that usually carried through to everything Reno did. Rude's fists clenched, and he heard the sound of glass breaking, felt something sharp and icy and wet in his left hand, heard Tifa gasp a little in surprise. He'd crushed the glass, and its contents had spilled all over the bar and all over his hand – mingling with the blood and shards but he couldn't feel anything because there was a muted buzzing in his ears, and his field of vision was becoming blurred around the edges.

_I'm gonna kill him._

/"Zack."

The dark-haired SOLDIER turned upon hearing his name called – Tseng was walking down the corridor towards him, looking for all the world like he had simply happened by and was stopping to chat. But Zack knew him better than that – Tseng wanted something.

He played along anyway.

"Tseng! Good to see you, man!" Tseng endured the friendly slap on the arm with a tolerant smile; he'd gotten used to it already. "Where's Verdot been keeping you? It's been ages!" Well, technically they'd spoken a couple times the past two weeks but no one needed to know that. As far as everyone was concerned, SOLDIERs and Turks stayed out of each others' way and that was that. If it wasn't for Zack's reputation as SOLDIER's Mr Nice Guy, his speaking to Tseng like that would have raised a lot of eyebrows.

Tseng just smiled, relaxing slightly so as to keep up appearances. "I've been busy looking into that cadet – Strife – you remember him?"

_Do I remember him? I've been obsessed with him!_

But they were acting out a charade, so Zack grinned rather vacantly and nodded. "Yeah, the blond kid who broke another cadet's arm, right? He's good! I sparred with him a little last week."

Tseng nodded. "I heard about that. Sorry I wasn't there to watch."

There was the opening. Zack smiled, clapping Tseng on the shoulder lightly. "Yeah, you missed out." Zack made his eyes brighten as though he'd just remembered something that pleased him. "Seph came to watch though!"

Tseng raised an eyebrow, and this time Zack could tell it wasn't faked or forced.

_SOLDIER 1 – Turk 0._

_This is how we do it._

"Really?" Tseng looked impressed, leaning against the wall and looking very un-Turk-like in his indolence. "And what did the General have to say about the cadet?"

_It's what he DIDN'T say that matters._

Zack just grinned. "He was pretty impressed. Said I should give the kid private training coz he's perfect for SOLDIER." He ran a hand through his dark hair, it was still a little damp from his shower – he'd only just wandered into work. "Haven't approached the kid yet though. Dunno if I should." At that he looked meaningfully at Tseng, who nodded.

"Well, I think you should." The Turk pushed off the wall casually, making to walk off. "Maybe you could ask him about his acquaintances while you're at it."

_What?_

"Huh? Whaddya mean?" Zack cocked his head to the side, arms folded loosely across his chest.

Tseng stepped in closer, lowering his voice so that only Zack's Mako-enhancements allowed him to hear the Turk's next words. "He's been spotted with a certain Person of Interest twice." At that Tseng's eyes scanned their surroundings with practiced ease. Seeing that they were alone, he continued in his hushed tone. "The first time was just before he started exhibiting his…talents. We wrote it off as a coincidence, but now we think it might be more than that." At that Tseng quickly straightened up and smirked, making it look like he'd just told Zack some very juicy piece of gossip about some mutual acquaintance. Zack played his part with ease – he was dying to know more as it was.

"Who?"

Tseng just shook his head. It went unspoken – no way could he reveal that information. Zack's shoulders sagged a bit, and he debated just punching the smug looking Turk. He'd never been one for meaningless violence, but now seemed to be as good a time as any to get with the senseless rage program.

Tseng had started to turn. "Well, it was good seeing you Zack." He smiled. "You know, a lot of people have been talking about the 'power of prayer' since that whole 'The Secret' series." There was a slight tug to his lips. "But I personally think that God's still on vacation." The Turk nodded his head slightly in farewell and walked off. Zack called out a cheery "bye" to Tseng's retreating back.

_A church in the slums, huh? _Zack turned and walked the other way, heading towards Sephiroth's office. _I'll ask him later._

Feeling slightly better now that he had this delicious little morsel of information about Cloud, Zack started humming his new favorite tune.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me…"

/"I think the Gunny needs to get laid."

Reno was huffing and puffing along next to Cloud, their morning PT session turning into a nightmare of a marathon. Cloud himself was winded, but he forced himself to keep going, to keep running at his usual speed even though his legs felt about ready to fall off and the stitch in his side was screaming Bloody Murder. He was in _pain_, dammit! But no, he had to save the world, and he couldn't do it if he was just Spiky the Loser.

_I'm a glutton for punishment._

Most of their bunk had gotten ear-rings now, and apparently Jared had almost gotten a tongue piercing - it was only Ralph's informing him that he'd drool like an idiot for awhile after getting it that had dissuaded the blond. Cloud was a little glad – he knew Jared with a tongue piercing would just insist on everyone getting a 'taste' of his new flavor. And Cloud had turned into quite the little player recently.

A part of Cloud was glad for this new symbol in his left ear. Where before it had been just him trying to be someone else, now it was a mark of friendship – Ralph had called it Team Fenrir's mascot, but Cloud was waiting to get his usual ear-piece made before he agreed with the other cadet.

He missed his baby.

As they ran, he allowed his mind to drift off, glad that everyone was too tired for their usual banter. Yesterday had been fun, and he'd been surprised at how many cadets from other bunkers had joined them. Lunch had been raucous and noisy – filled with insults and more lewd jokes than usual – not that Cloud blamed them. For most of them women were welcome sights after so long in their all-male training environment. Reno had kept his promise and not mentioned a thing about Aeris - saying only that Blondie had gotten lost - for which Cloud was glad. He could tell that Ray and the others realized that something was up, but they were at least discreet enough not to ask. If there was one thing that made Cloud glad he was back here, it was the new friends he was making. Never mind that Nibelheim was approaching – he had _friends_, and he knew they were the type to stand by him. He couldn't really remember what happened to them after Nibelheim the first time around – he'd been far too stand-offish and self-absorbed to pay attention to anything but his usual misery. This time though, he was making sure to show in his own way how much he appreciated their company – even though all he was doing was talking to them and helping them out with homework, but it was the thought that mattered anyway. Cloud had never been a very expressive person, and he was pretty sure everyone knew that.

Although Tifa had mentioned once that during the first hunt for Sephiroth he'd been far more expressive than later – he'd wondered what had happened to change things, but the answer was simple. He'd killed him. It didn't help that after the first time he'd killed Sephiroth, Cloud had actually begun to move on with his life, to surge ahead of even Tifa, but then the Geostigma came. If there was ever a sign of divine justice, that was it – Cloud was clearly never meant to be Mr Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy.

Cloud wondered when he'd get to talk to the General – Aeris seemed to think he actually had a chance at something with the silver-haired man, but then again Aeris was an eternal optimist. He figured the best way to get to know Sephiroth this time around was through Zack, but the First was either busy or biding his time or – and this last option made his heart clench painfully – wasn't interested in him. Cloud knew that couldn't be true though – this time around Zack actually had a reason to approach him, as opposed to before, when they'd been just two guys trudging along in the snow talking about small towns and Mako reactors. Or maybe Zack only spoke to people who were weak, only bothered to protect those who couldn't defend themselves. Zack always could be counted on to play the Knight in Shining Armor. Either that or the man had some serious macho issues and a need to prove himself; but Cloud doubted that was the case. Zack was the perfect guy – he had practically everything: charm, looks, smarts, skills; why would he need to prove himself anymore than he already had? No, it was Cloud who always had something to prove, Cloud who always had a chip on his shoulder and a need to excel, because maybe then people would like him.

No matter how old he was, no matter what he'd been through, at the end of the day he was still the wimpy little bastard whom no other kid wanted to play with.

_Quit being so damned depressing._

It was hard not to be, not when he'd always sought so desperately for acceptance and approval. He had a feeling that no matter how many times he reminded himself that he was here to change things, he'd never feel truly satisfied until Nibelheim was successfully averted.

_And when you're successfully in his bed?_

He stumbled slightly at that errant thought; recovering quickly enough that all Reno did was shoot him a quick look. The red-head probably chalked it up to him being exhausted – they all were, but it didn't look like their sadistic instructor was about to let up anytime soon. Cloud re-focused himself mentally – he just had to get through PT, and then they would go to hand-to-hand class, and have fun with the Keysi Fighting Method. Cloud had never really cared much for hand-to-hand combat, but Zack had been good at pretty much everything, which had carried over to Cloud. That and Tifa had taken it upon herself to educate him in pugilism just in case his beloved First Tsurugi was ever too far away to help. Not that that had ever happened in the future, but Cloud was grateful for Tifa's amazing foresight – her teachings were certainly serving him in good stead here.

He was looking forward to their KFM free-sparring session. Being Batman was fun when you were only fighting jokers.

Mercifully the whistle sounded as Cloud and Reno were reaching the Gunny. They stumbled to a stop gratefully, Cloud doing his best to breathe steadily and walk on the spot and Reno doing his best to become one with the filthy track. The Gunny didn't give them all much time to catch their breath – as soon as the last of the stragglers reached him, he gave another blast of his whistle and ordered them to suicide drills.

No one had any energy to groan.

As they wobbled towards hand-to-hand, Cloud found himself wondering about Reno's hairstyle. He'd never really paid attention to it before – Reno had always been more of a drinking buddy and resident jack-ass – but here, as cadets, he was surprised to realize that Reno's hair was just in a short pony-tail; in fact it wasn't even beginning to show signs of The Mullet - Cloud had never really bothered with appearances, but now that he was comfortable enough around Reno, he was beginning to play Spot the Differences - personality-wise and physically.

Well, not that the red-head was _too _different. As far as Cloud was concerned, Reno would always be Reno, even if the future Turk had a different hairstyle.

_He'll always be business upfront, party in the back._

Reno made mullets look good. Not that Cloud would ever consider getting one. Really – he'd been called white trash more times than he could remember and he didn't need this outward badge of Bastard Pride.

At least Jeffries had a heart – the Staff Sergeant had taken one look at the pathetic, panting, puppy-eyed cadets and told them to just get into pairs and work on their techniques. There was a collective sigh of relief from the group, and Cloud was exhausted enough to venture a weak smile at Jeffries, which was reciprocated by a thump to the back that almost sent the blond sprawling.

_SOLDIERs_.

He got Ray for his partner again, because it seemed Reno wanted to take it easy in practice. Not that Cloud could blame him – they were all shaking and still trying to catch their breaths – Payne was a sadistic bastard-and-a-half. Cloud was looking forward to a nice, relaxing time of pretending he wasn't capable of knocking the Junon kid to the ground in two seconds.

It took Jared only five minutes of dodging Brian's rather wobbly attacks to become his usual chatty self, and try as he might Cloud couldn't say he'd missed the silence. Talking was proof that they were alive, proof that he was here and part of the group, and at least Jared was funny.

_Zack's really funny too_.

Cloud stomped that thought out ruthlessly – he'd all but accepted that there was no way he could approach Zack without seeming like a vapid fan, so the only other viable course of action was to wait until the First decided to approach _him_. Cloud wanted to look forward to it but there was the matter of higher hopes leading to a more crushing disappointment, so Jared's lewd wit was a welcome relief.

"God, I'm filthy," the taller blond moaned dramatically, stretching in such a way that he simultaneously dodged another of Brian's vibrating elbows while making his own sweat-drenched shirt ride up slightly to expose hip-bones framing a rather tantalizing V.

_Good grief_.

Cloud was turning into SUCH a pervert.

"Yeah, Payne likes giving us a hard time." Ralph grinned from Cloud's other side, ducking low and spinning around to deliver a quick jab to where Reno's shoulder had been less than a second ago.

Cloud bit his lip to prevent himself from saying something along the lines of liking it hard, twisting his torso to avoid a knee to the ribs from Ray. His back protested the movement, but it was protesting everything today so Cloud had given up listening to it pull a 70's on him.

He concentrated on the talk going on around him, preferring not to focus on his fighting because focusing on his moves always reminded him of the countless times he'd fought to save himself and his friends. Ray brought up the subject of clubbing again, and Reno mentioned a place under the plate. And that was that – somehow the rest of the bunk managed to hear about it within seconds and Grant was bopping along to some nameless tune that only he could hear while grappling with another cadet. Cloud just shook his head, smiling a little because he couldn't help it. He supposed he wouldn't be smiling when they actually went to the club, seeing as his dancing lessons consisted of watching his mother waltz around their living room with an imaginary partner. He'd always wondered if she was dancing with the memory of the man who'd sired him, but he'd never asked.

Which reminded him of his resolution to be a better son this time around, so he decided to write a letter to her later.

"Cloudy." Hearing it chorused by so many amused voices, Cloud jerked his head up and narrowly dodged an elbow to his face. He smiled apologetically, and he must have been really tired because he ventured an explanation without any prompting – Tifa would fall over in shock if she knew he was talking without being forced to.

"Was thinking about writing a letter to my mom later." And instantly bit his tongue because he _really _didn't need to sound like a total mummy's boy right now - he was training to be the lean, mean, killing machine he'd be in the future, dammit - but then he chided himself internally. Why should he care what the others thought – she was his _mother_, and he'd be damned if he threw away this second chance to show her how much he loved her.

That didn't stop him from flushing slightly as the others awww'ed and cooed and teased him for being such a sweetheart. Cloud blamed his pale complexion for it.

"Seriously though," Ray grinned. "You're living in the past, man." At that Cloud's heart skipped a beat, and an irrational paranoia seized him while the words echoed in his head. How many times had he been told those exact words by AVALANCHE? How many times had he told them to himself, sitting by the little field of flowers and seeing only brown hair and water? How many times had he heard it whispered in the wind as he looked at his dull reflection in a rusty sword on a cliff edge?

Too many times, a little voice whispered in his head.

Ralph was talking, and Cloud heard him as though through a fog, but gradually the black-haired cadet's words penetrated the haze of memories.

"…phone."

_Huh_?

Cloud must have spoken his thoughts out loud again, because when his eyes refocused Reno was chuckling and even Brian was giggling.

Ray laughed. "Ralphy said, 'why don't you just use a phone?'"

_Oh_.

Cloud wanted to kick himself. Or Reno, who was nearly doubled over with laughter, but Ralph did that for him – attacking the distracted red-head and sending the two of them tumbling to the ground because even distracted Reno was a helluva opponent and could always be counted on to flip someone off in every sense of the word.

Jared was still snickering, but he managed to sound coherent when he pointed at Ray and said that their sugar-daddy had a pretty sweet new cell-phone.

"All the better to pimp you ho's out with, my dear." Ray had a distinctly wolfish leer to his face, even as he adopted a saccharinely-sweet tone.

Cloud rolled his eyes, but he accepted Ray's offer to use his cell later. He hoped he remembered the number though – Nibelheim didn't exactly have a YellowPages, boondocks that it was.

By the time hand-to-hand finished, calling their mothers had become all the rage among the cadets, and Cloud wished he'd invested in telco-stocks. He had to remind himself not to get all big-headed about being a trend-setter though, because the last thing he needed was to develop a huge ego – he wasn't the Fat President.

Of course Jared wanted to call everyone's mothers too but that was just Jared being Jared.

Lunch was a rowdy affair – with word of the planned club-night turning into an impending dance-off between the bunkers. Cloud was saved from being volunteered as his bunker's representative by Reno and the others – he would have kissed them if it wasn't still broad daylight. He REALLY didn't know how to dance – it was the one thing he'd never actually learned or picked up from Zack; over-sized test-tubes didn't exactly lend themselves to optimal marimba conditions. The guys wanted to teach him, but he was pretty sure he had two left feet – even so, it didn't stop them from vowing to make him a groove-master by the end of club-night.

_Good grief._

Cloud wanted to break a leg.

/In Battle Comms class Cloud was trying to ignore the fact that Jared was practically drooling on his shoulder as the other blond opted to catch up on his beauty sleep. Cloud supposed he couldn't really blame the other cadet – class was ridiculously boring at the best of times, and today's lesson ranked among the worst he'd ever had. Their instructor seemed not to notice how most of the cadets had their heads buried in their arms on the tables, or he just didn't care. Their loss if they didn't pass their exams – there were more than enough boys signing up for SOLDIER training every year to fill the ranks anyway, even with the stringent testing procedures. Sephiroth was a helluva guy-magnet, and now that he thought about it, Cloud understood why the recruitment booths seemed more like shrines to the General than anything – just wave Sephiroth's picture around and people came running.

He glanced at the clock – five minutes left to class – so he shifted slightly, waking Jared. The other boy yawned noisily, rubbing sleep from his eyes and accidentally-on-purpose letting his wandering hands nudge Cloud's ass. Cloud just rolled his eyes. Reno was still fast asleep, and he debated waking him – he'd done it plenty of times in Seventh Heaven, when the red-head was too sotted from one of their perpetual drinking competitions – but even though the other boy was still just a cadet here Cloud couldn't shake the memory of how keen the Turk's survival instincts were.

Then again, it wasn't like Reno had his nightstick or Mako enhancements here.

As he was mulling over being the resident alarm-clock, Ralph just went ahead and jabbed Reno in the ribs. The red-head woke soundlessly, arm pinning Ralph's neck to the back of their seats, other hand going for the Rocket Town cadet's face in a claw-like grip before Cloud intervened. Reno blinked sleep from his eyes, releasing Ralph with a muttered apology. For his part the black-haired cadet took it all in stride, rubbing his throat and swearing never to wake Reno again in his life. Cloud let go of Reno from where he'd practically been melded to the taller boy – holding hands and wrapped around the other's waist – and turned back to the board to the sound of Jared's snickering insinuations. Their instructor hadn't even noticed the almost-mutilation of Ralph's face.

As the cadets started to pack their things noisily, signaling the end of class even though their instructor was still droning on and on, the door opened and Staff Sergeant Jeffries walked in. Instantly all the cadets straightened, pausing in their escape and rising to attention. Jeffries nodded at them, passing a slip of paper to Corporal Maran before turning and walking out, but not before the Staff Sergeant eyed the damp patch on Cloud's shirt. The blond didn't flush, but he did cut his eyes accusingly to Jared, focusing on Jeffries again just in time to see the amused tilt to the Staff Sergeant's lips. He offered a small smile in return.

Corporal Maran cleared his throat, not even waiting to see if he had the cadets' attention before announcing that they would start Driver's Ed next week – at that most of the cadets cheered while some groaned. Cloud remembered falling of his bike and crashing his truck more times than anyone else before – but since he'd practically become the God of Bike Riding in the future, he was looking forward to the familiar thrum of an engine and the feel of raw power between his legs.

_Pervert._

Cloud had been spending too much time with Reno.

The guys had started talking excitedly about finally getting behind the wheel after forever, and it turned out that Jared had been a motocross racer before joining cadet training, and Ralph had practically grown up in a garage – Cloud wanted to snort at the stereotypical Rocket Town image – and he wasn't surprised to learn that Ray had been playing with several (very expensive) cars and bikes since he was old enough to be able to reach the pedals without a prosthetic limb made out of soda cans. Reno was smirking, and Cloud remembered that the future Reno was addicted to helicopters. It came as no surprise that Brian had never driven before – Cloud remembered the other cadet trying desperately to drive shift the last time. All the books in the world didn't help when it came to split second decisions and synchronizing movements, and Cloud was very glad for his own experience, even though he didn't say anything. He supposed he'd have to control himself, seeing as how tiny little cadets from Nibelheim weren't supposed to be Supermen on bikes, but he couldn't help the excited little fluttering in his chest as he came this one step closer to Fenrir.

_Daddy's coming._

God, he missed his baby.

They headed towards First Aid class considerably more energetically than when they'd dragged themselves towards Battle Comms, and Cloud settled into his usual seat at the back with Reno next to him. Jared had already grabbed Cloud's Battle Comms notes during the walk to First Aid, and he was fending off Ray's attempts to steal it – though Cloud doubted anyone actually fended off potential muggers that provocatively, no matter how good-looking said mugger was.

Cloud didn't even bother taking notes or paying attention in this class, leaning back in his seat and doing the 'cloudy' thing nonchalantly – the others just ribbed him good-naturedly but he ignored them – Brian would take enough notes for everyone to copy anyway.

Cloud couldn't wait for Driver's Ed.

/There was a knock on his door, and Sephiroth called an authoritative 'come in' without lifting his head from his paperwork. He heard the door being opened, his keen senses picking up the scent of cadet soap and sweat, and he raised his head slightly.

Strife was standing at the doorway, looking very much like a rabbit caught in the headlights that was pretending it actually had a death-wish. Sephiroth wanted to smirk – it seemed the little cadet had what Zack liked to call 'balls'.

_And balls are a very good thing to have_, a distinctly Zack-sounding voice whispered in his head. Sephiroth frowned internally – this Strife conundrum was starting to get on his nerves. He was glad he'd finally just gotten Zack to sneak the boy into his office for an impromptu meeting/interrogation. Sephiroth did not like not knowing everything about everything – in battle, ignorance was deathly bliss, and Sephiroth didn't become General by championing World Peace and respecting Privacy Laws.

He motioned for Strife to close the door, and watched as the petite blonde hesitated only marginally before removing his hand from the handle after shutting the door almost soundlessly. The cadet still wouldn't meet his eyes, and Sephiroth was disappointed. From Zack's accounts, the blonde was a tough, smart fighter – the boy should at least be able to face the General head-on. Not that Sephiroth could blame him – even the Shinra directors couldn't look him in the eye; Hojo was the only one who loved staring at him with that perpetually-dissecting gaze.

Still, a part of him had been hoping…

_For what? _

Sephiroth didn't want to finish that train of thought. This was all Zack's fault.

Strife had started chewing on his bottom lip nervously, and unbidden the unconscious action drew Sephiroth's gaze. The boy had full pink lips, and they looked soft.

If Sephiroth had been Zack, he would have kicked himself. As it was, this internal debate led to his tone being harsher than it normally would have been when he spoke at last.

"Explain your inconsistencies, cadet."

To Strife's credit, he only flinched minutely, tensing almost unnoticeably, hands clenching slightly at his sides before the cadet straightened, putting his hands behind his back, squaring his shoulders marginally. If Sephiroth had been Zack, he would have applauded the boy's 'balls'.

"General, sir. I decided to apply myself to my classes." It was the first time Sephiroth had heard Strife's voice, and he had to admit it suited the cadet in an odd, man/boy way. There was an underlying tremor which the General attributed to nerves, but what caught his attention most was boy's tone of voice. It was at once cool and detached, yet invested with emotions that Sephiroth did not want to get within Masamune-length of. _Zack_ was the Dr Phil of the two of them – Sephiroth was more the CSI-type.

He narrowed his eyes at the cadet who was still lingering by the door. Sephiroth wanted to smirk – did the boy really think he'd make it out of the office before Sephiroth could reach him? He debated letting the blonde believe in this false sense of safety, but he'd had enough of the boy's almost evasive personality, and answers had been eluding him. Sephiroth wanted the truth, and he was going to get it – one way or another.

"Come here." The General watched with almost malicious glee as the cadet stiffened, mind no doubt furiously debating the repercussions of making a run for it. Sephiroth just waited. He knew that there was no way a mere cadet would dare defy him, not when all of SOLDIER and all of Shinra didn't dare gainsay him. Sephiroth might be on their payroll, but he worked for them because he chose to – and if something better came along, Sephiroth had no qualms about leaving. There was no doubt that the expression on the President's face would be infinitely amusing if Sephiroth ever handed in his resignation.

Strife took an infinitesimal step forward, and all the while Sephiroth remained still as a statue, brilliant green eyes taking in everything about the cadet, cataloguing every minute detail. He noticed the slight shifting of weight that indicated nightly activities of the male persuasion, remembered Zack's deliberately off-handed comment about Strife and a red-headed bunk-mate. Then Strife took another, bigger, step forward, and Sephiroth wondered if he should tell the cadet that his concealed weapon wasn't very well concealed – especially when he walked, and especially not to him, the General.

Sephiroth was pretty sure every red-blooded male had noticed the weapon – it was hard not to miss it when it was right next to a certain anatomical part on the pretty little cadet.

_Pretty little cadet?_

Luckily, Sephiroth was saved from an abusive internal tirade when Strife took a deep breath, the action drawing the General's attention to the boy's chest as it expanded, thin shirt drawing tight over nipples that looked hardened by the highly efficient air-conditioning. Then the blonde took the remaining steps forward to stop inches from Sephiroth's table, breath leaving him almost soundlessly as it rustled the papers on the desk slightly. Sephiroth still hadn't moved, knowing he was unnerving the boy with his stillness, _wanting_ to unnerve the boy, because nervous individuals tended to blurt out things they normally wouldn't say, and Sephiroth wanted his answers.

He rose to his feet soundlessly, towering over the already diminutive cadet, knowing full well how imposing his appearance was. Strife didn't move, but his right hand – his _sword_ hand – twitched slightly, the miniscule movement easily overlooked if one wasn't the General. Sephiroth wanted to smirk. He was liking this cadet more and more.

Strife still hadn't moved, hadn't raised his head from where he appeared to be dissecting the desk, and Sephiroth wondered if the boy's hair was as soft as it appeared to be.

He decided to say something before he could pursue that train of thought any further.

"I doubt a mere application of self is enough to justify this sudden jump in ability." He kept his voice neutral, cool, business-like. No need to put the boy on the defensive just yet.

Strife still didn't speak, keeping his head down, and Sephiroth wondered if the cadet was just tongue-tied the way most people were in his presence. Zack and Tseng were the only ones left in Shinra who didn't lose their coherency around the General, and a part of Sephiroth wished for the good old days when Angeal and Genesis and he had been friends. He pushed that thought away ruthlessly. Emotions were worthless in battle at best, a liability at worst.

"Cadet Strife." This time Sephiroth let a little threatening note slip into his tone, allowed a slightly more demanding nuance. He'd learned from experience that just this subtle pressure was enough to reduce most people to blubbering, bumbling buffoons.

Strife had only tensed even more subtly, right hand twitching as though itching to grab an imaginary sword. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow slightly – this boy was obviously a born swordsman, a natural warrior. It would be a pity to lose him, but Sephiroth wasn't about to let the cadet get away with whatever it was he'd been doing simply because the youth had talent.

They stood like that for awhile - one imposing, tall, menacing presence; the other quiet, deferring, still. Both of them soundless, waiting, _anticipating._

Sephiroth broke the silence when he was certain it had unnerved the cadet enough.

"Come around the table."

At this Strife tensed noticeably, back stiffening, fist clenching. He didn't move for a few seconds, before turning and walking around the majestic desk to stop an arm's length away from the General. Sephiroth didn't miss how the cadet had deliberately placed himself between him and Masamune. He wanted to applaud the boy's foresight, if he didn't deem it an unnecessary precaution. He had a reputation to maintain after all, and it wouldn't do if word got out that he was skewering tiny little cadets in his office as though they were chocobo-colored marshmallows.

He reached out, closing the distance between them, feeling more than seeing the blond flinch and tense, knowing the cadet was longing to step back, put more distance between them, run as far away as possible from whatever it was the General was planning to do. But to Strife's credit he stood his ground after a sharp intake of breath, and Sephiroth allowed his hand to fist the boy's shirt, yanking him forward with more force than was necessary, making the cadet collide with his chest and filling his senses with Eau de Cadet and something else that was undeniably Strife.

Strife's short, sharp breaths were falling on Sephiroth's chest below his collarbone, and this close the General could feel their difference in stature more acutely. The boy had a presence, a way about him that made him appear if not bigger, then tougher and stronger than he physically was. Sephiroth could see the brilliant SOLDIER in the cadet even now, knew with certainty that this tiny little blonde would someday become a great swordsman, an even greater warrior. He knew he would have to tread carefully, knew he wanted this boy's allegiance, maybe even his friendship.

_And his body?_

Sephiroth had been spending far too much time with The Black Porcupine.

He was still holding Strife's shirt, and he twisted his fist in the thin fabric.

"You will not tell me?" He made his voice cold and menacing this time, wanting his answers and deciding he was going to get them even if he had to break the boy, rules be damned. Zack wouldn't be happy about it, but Sephiroth knew Zack would make excuses for him, cover for him no matter what. The Brigadier General could take 'Semper Fi' to the next level.

Strife refused to speak, didn't move even though Sephiroth was sure the boy wanted nothing more than to lash out and make a run for it. He applauded the cadet's control. Zack would do well to learn a few things from the little blond.

"Very well." He shoved the boy onto his desk, knocking papers onto the floor, not caring at this moment that he was making a mess of his highly organized office. He pinned the cadet face-down, grabbing slender arms and twisting in a way he knew _had_ to hurt. Strife refused to make a sound, and somehow that just fueled Sephiroth's desire to break the boy's control even more. Grimly he decided to make sure that Strife knew who was in charge here – he would teach Strife to ask "how high" when he said "jump".

He ripped the blond's shirt, using it to bind lithe arms in such a way that if the blond tried to move them in the slightest, the shirt would pull his head back painfully. The makeshift bonds held Strife's mouth open, thin fabric drawn tight between two rows of perfect teeth. There was no way the position wasn't hurting the cadet, since Sephiroth had tightened the bonds cruelly, but Strife still refused to make a sound, although Sephiroth could see the boy's fists were clenched tight, could see the taut line of developing shoulders. He reached below the cadet, feeling the blond tense even more when his hand came to rest near the boy's groin. He squeezed, felt Strife start, and leaned over to speak directly into a perfectly shaped ear.

"Cadets are not allowed weapons, Strife." This close Sephiroth could hear the thrum of blood rushing through the blond's veins, could hear the thundering of the cadet's pulse. Strife's eyes were clenched tightly shut, so Sephiroth grabbed the boy's ass with his other hand, squeezing cruelly and knowing it had to hurt. Strife's eyes had flown open in shock, before closing again from the pain. His breath was coming faster now; adrenalin pumping through his veins, but still the blond didn't try to fight, holding himself still despite what the General was doing, despite knowing that the General was _about_ to do.

"You like being treated like a whore, don't you?" Sephiroth's tone was as vicious as his grip, never having been a gentle lover and not intending to start. He needed the rush of a furious fuck, liked the feeling of pounding in brutally. It made him feel alive as only one other thing could – being in battle and hearing the chorus of war. It was what he'd been born for, and he didn't need Hojo telling him that constantly to know it.

Strife tensed even more, but Sephiroth could see the flush on the boy's cheeks, felt a slight hardening between the blond's legs even as he heard the cadet's pulse speed up. He allowed himself a small smirk – this was going to be fun.

He straightened, stepped back slightly, keen eyes not missing how Strife seemed to simultaneously sag slightly with relief and arch back in a subtle attempt to seek out more contact. Sephiroth grabbed the boy's fatigues, yanking them down with plain boxers to reveal twin pale, firm globes. The musky scent of arousal filled his nostrils, and he turned, walking to the window and deliberately looking out over the city, letting Strife believe he'd been abandoned in that wanton pose.

He leaned against the cool glass, crossing his arms and keeping his back to the cadet bent scandalously over his desk. To his credit, Strife simply held his position, neither shifting nor making a sound. Sephiroth didn't want to admit that this only further fueled his desire, didn't want to admit that Strife had a hold over him no matter what. He was frustrated, or as close to frustrated as he could be without dealing with corrupt, inept bureaucrats. The whole situation with Strife had been plaguing him far too much, and Sephiroth needed to end it now, before the cadet became a SOLDIER and they had to work together.

"Do you want me to touch you?" His tone was politely impersonal, as though discussing the weather. He eyed Strife's faint reflection in the glass, but other than that made no move to indicate that he was even aware of the cadet's presence. The blond shifted subtly, fatigues and boxers sliding further down lean legs, baring more of that smooth skin to the cold office air. Sephiroth angled his head slightly so that he could watch the cadet out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" A sharp intake of breath, and Strife shifted more noticeably this time. Sephiroth could see the youth's muscles beginning to tremble with the strain of holding his pose without making himself more comfortable. It seemed the boy had his pride, refusing to show the General how affected he was despite the obvious scent of attraction. Sephiroth was impressed. Usually his bed-partners would be begging by now. He knew the effect he had on people, had known it since he was a child, except once upon a time he'd been too innocent to understand. But since he'd joined SOLDIER, since he'd gone through cadet training, he'd learned to use his every asset to his advantage. Zack had once commented on his Turkishness, and Angeal had made a similar comment years before. Sephiroth pushed the parallels out of his mind. He didn't want to think about the dark-haired ex-SOLDIER. Especially not now when a pretty little cadet was spread so invitingly over his desk.

"Step out of your pants." Sephiroth watched as Strife hesitated only marginally before moving to do his bidding, the standard-issue boots making it difficult for the cadet to succeed without bumping his length against the cool table. Sephiroth could hear the soft hisses and gasps as the blond tried to avoid stimulation to his no-doubt growing arousal, but otherwise the General didn't move from his position by the window, preferring to let the boy struggle.

At length Strife stepped out of his pants, pushing the fatigues and the boxers away with his booted feet. The blond leaned heavily against the desk, the bonds keeping him from being able to rest his head against the tabletop. Sephiroth eyed the way the boy's neck muscles were straining with the effort of keeping his position – moving his arms would cause the bonds to pull against his head, but moving his head caused the bonds to tug the blond's arms even more painfully. Sephiroth watched the boy for a while longer, waiting until the trembling muscles threatened to cramp before turning and walking back to his desk. He grabbed the makeshift bonds, yanked back painfully and was rewarded with a muted cry that Strife couldn't stifle. The silver-haired man allowed himself a feral smile before undoing the knots, rearranging the bonds so that they simply held the cadet's arms firmly behind his back. Then he stepped back.

"Pick up your fatigues and your boxers." He watched as Strife tugged lightly at his torn shirt. "With your mouth, cadet." Strife stiffened, but slowly raised himself off the table and stepped back, some of Sephiroth's previously neat paperwork stuck to a toned, sweaty chest. The General stood impassive. "Put them on the desk and bend over." Sephiroth couldn't deny how much the sight of the blond's mouth around his own boxers and fatigues was affecting him, but he clamped down on the rising arousal. He would not let the cadet know how much he wanted this too.

When Strife dropped his clothes on the desk and bent over again, resting his forehead against more papers, Sephiroth eyed the lithe back glistening with sweat. Then he stepped forward, picking up the cadet's boxers with one hand, the other going for blond locks and grabbing them in a rough hold, yanking the boy's head back to stuff skivvies into a pretty mouth, stopping only when the blond nearly gagged. Then he dropped the cadet's head back onto the tabletop, listening to the dull thud as Strife's forehead struck papers when the boy didn't catch himself in time. He looked down at Strife's legs, the harness for his weapon standing in stark contrast against the pale skin. Reaching down, Sephiroth unfastened the strap, lifting the sheathed blade and examining it.

A butterfly knife suited the blond somehow, in a way Sephiroth couldn't quite explain. There was no doubt that the cadet was meant for a sword, and yet the image of the tiny youth wielding an exotic and deadly balisong only seemed to further heighten Sephiroth's arousal. There was something about Strife that seemed to affect Sephiroth no matter what, something about those eyes and that controlled manner that insinuated itself under Sephiroth's skin despite his best attempts at ignoring it.

He pulled the blade out of its sheath, then lowered his hand to nudge at Strife's cheeks with the metal warmed by the blond's own skin. The cadet started, jerking forward slightly and bumping his own length against the table. There was a soft moan that Sephiroth might have missed if he didn't have keener senses than any other SOLDIER. So it seemed the little blond liked playing with fire. Try as he might, Sephiroth couldn't deny that he liked this kinky side to the quiet cadet.

_What is it about you that makes you so impossible to ignore, Strife? _

"Would you like me to make you bleed, slut?" Sephiroth breathed into a flushed ear. Strife couldn't mute his gasp at that – Sephiroth had always been a master of manipulation, and seduction was an excellent way of getting what one wanted while having a good time.

_A very, very good time._

He wondered why he seemed to have a permanent Zack-voice in his mind, even when his nostrils were filled with Strife. Though the blond was diminutive, barely topping Sephiroth's collarbone, Strife seemed to have filled the Sephiroth's immediate awareness completely.

He pushed all those thoughts away – deciding to analyze them _later_ – for now, he had some business to attend to.

He nudged the balisong in slightly, past the puckered opening, enjoying how Strife tensed instantly at the invasion, how short breaths became slightly louder, how the blond tried to relax to let the knife in yet pretend that he was not involved in this, that he didn't want this.

_Who are you trying to fool, Strife? You've always wanted me._

Sephiroth wondered at the ageless finality of that thought – the sheer knowing imbedded in it. He wondered how he knew; reminded himself to think about it LATER, forced the butterfly knife further in a bit harder than he would have if he hadn't been so forcefully trying to push away errant thoughts.

Strife's pained gasp was muted by the boxers in his mouth, but Sephiroth caught it anyway. He pulled the knife out slightly, liking how the movement was not smoothened by lubrication, liking how Strife moved slightly with the balisong as though trying to retain it inside him. It seemed Cloud Strife really liked pointy objects.

The General chuckled lightly, twisting the butterfly-knife ruthlessly and making the blond cry out this time. "It won't be over so fast, Strife." The silver-haired man whispered, before giving in and biting hard on the flushed tip of an ear. Strife made a sound halfway between a startled cry and a moan – whatever it was, it went straight to Sephiroth's groin. He wanted to slam the pretty little blond against the desk again and again with the force of his thrusts, but more than that he wanted to make the cadet scream his name in desperation. He wanted Strife to beg.

Sephiroth rotated the knife once more before yanking it out brutally. Strife seemed disappointed, if the soft whine was any indication. Sephiroth pulled the boxers out of the cadet's mouth and held the balisong in front of Strife – knowing the hovering blade must be filling the blond's nose with its musky scent, knowing that the blond knew what was coming, what the General wanted.

When Strife opened his mouth in soundless surrender, Sephiroth almost lost all control.

As it was, he moved his wrist, letting the blond take almost all of the balisong in but keeping a hold on it.

"Suck."

The command was cold, yet roughened slightly with desire that Sephiroth was having a hard time keeping under wraps. But Strife was much further along than the General, if the way the blond shivered was any indication.

Perfect lips closed around the intricate blade handle, and Strife's cheeks hollowed as the blond obeyed the General's command, tasting himself and the tang of metal. Sephiroth moved the knife in and out, enjoying the constant suction that gave just the right resistance to his movements, not wanting to imagine those lips around his cock because then he would really get hard and the blond would know how much he was affected by all this.

Then he decided he didn't care.

Strife's lips made a 'pop' sound as the balisong was yanked out, before letting a sharp gasp through as the butterfly knife was forcefully shoved deep inside the blond's ass. Then Sephiroth grabbed a fistful of blond hair, spinning the boy around and shoving him onto his knees, narrowly missing the table.

"Keep it in." This time the General's voice was rough with desire, and Strife inhaled sharply, keeping blue eyes shut tight even as his lips remained parted wantonly.

Sephiroth sat himself down on his chair, one hand still in blond spikes.

"Suck me."

That was all it took – Strife was beyond resistance, if the arousal was any indication. Hard, red, and weeping, it seemed the blond was ready for release. But Sephiroth would make him beg for it, _wanted _to hear the cadet cry out in need.

Before he could wonder why he wanted so badly to make the little blond scream for him, warm breath above his fly brought Sephiroth back to attention instantly. Strife suckled him through the expensive fabric of his tailored suit, the warmth and moisture making Sephiroth harden instantly.

He tightened his grip in the cadet's hair, the order unspoken, and Strife obeyed instantly, using pearly whites to unzip the General, the tent making progress slightly bumpy, before the scent of arousal through black silken briefs filled the air, and Strife let out a small moan that made the General's length twitch in response unbidden.

Sephiroth's grip in the blond's hair was now painfully tight, and Strife wasted no time obeying him. The cadet tugged at black briefs with his teeth and Sephiroth's length was freed, slapping the blond lightly on a flushed cheek as it emerged. Then there was glorious wet heat around him and Sephiroth had to take a deep breath, eyes closing for an instant before opening to stare at the sight of Strife taking him in half-way, cheeks hollowed as the boy sucked hard.

Then Sephiroth just shoved the blond head down, enjoying as the boy nearly gagged. A small part of him filed away the fact that the cadet's teeth never once scraped him.

_Blondes have more fun._

The General fucked Strife's mouth brutally before holding the boy down so that all of himself was between parted lips, the cadet's nose buried deep in Sephiroth's scent. The blond made gagging noises but Sephiroth didn't care, holding him down and tightening his grip in not-so-subtle warning.

He pulled the blond head off just as the cadet's face was turning a mottled purple, letting Strife take a desperate gasp of air before spinning him around and shoving the blond back into the table.

From this angle Sephiroth could see the tip of the balisong peeking out between twin cheeks, and he slapped Strife hard, watching as the pale globes jiggled the weapon inside the boy, enjoying the gasp and moan that his action earned. He hit the blond again, on the other cheek this time, and Strife moaned again, louder.

Then Sephiroth shoved his finger in, moving it in and out languidly as if in counterpoint to the abrupt entry. He watched Strife writhe before him, wriggling his reddened ass tantalizingly, before the General used his other hand, palm spread to encompass one pale globe, index finger teasing an opening that was puckering flirtatiously. He pushed another finger in, twisting, pulling in and out while keeping Strife pinned and spread, enjoying the show and the delicious sounds the panting blond was making before pulling his fingers and the balisong out and rising to his feet.

Strife's whine was aborted as the head of Sephiroth's length nudged against his opening. This time the blond didn't try to mask the sharp intake of breath, didn't try to hide the forced relaxation of a lithe body. Sephiroth kept himself still, for once grateful for the lessons in self-control that had filled his days as a child, before resolving not to think about it _for now_ and ramming himself into Cloud Strife.

This time the blond cried out.

The sound of his name coming from perfect lips, the feeling of tight, rough heat around his member, the sight of a beautiful body bent taut and quivering over his desk, the knowledge that the door was unlocked and anyone could walk in at anytime…all of it coupled together to give Sephiroth probably the most heady arousal he had ever had in his life.

He took a moment to savor it, breathed it all in, Strife's sobbed breaths filling his ears, before a tangy scent pierced through the haze of desire and made itself known.

Blood.

_You will not forget this._

Grimly he wondered when he'd become such a sadist. He'd always liked it rough, but he had never enjoyed inflicting pain on others. If only because he hated the expression on Hojo's face every time the mad scientist did something to him that would normally cause pain in a human.

_But I'm not human. I'm not like them._

It was a slight movement on Strife's part that brought Sephiroth back from his dark thoughts. The cadet had moved his hips slightly, as though it might help him escape the pain, as though it would negate the fact that this was rape, no matter his earlier arousal.

Sephiroth moved then, slightly at first, stretching the blond, before pulling out a little and thrusting in almost gently, the thick red liquid around his length not exactly optimal lubrication but better than none.

When it seemed the cadet had grown accustomed to Sephiroth's size, the General pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in. Strife screamed again, breath he had been about to take making him choke. Then Sephiroth repeated his actions, this time changing the angle slightly, and Strife cried out – this time in pleasure and pain.

_Gotcha._

Sephiroth switched tactics then, pulling out slowly, painfully slowly, making Strife whimper and move back pleadingly, but Sephiroth held himself still and used his grip on the cadet's hip to still the boy. The breathy whine from Strife was music to his member, and when Strife tightened the muscles around Sephiroth the General almost lost it.

_Slutty little blond, aren't you?_

The General didn't care, easing back in slowly, making sure to graze Strife's sweet spot on his way, then pulling back out equally slowly and making sure to lightly nudge a certain spot again on his way out. Strife was writhing against the desk now, breathy moans and pants coming louder and louder, but the blond hadn't begged yet, and Sephiroth so wanted to hear it first.

Deciding to go with a direct route, since Zack liked reminding him crudely about blonds and their thinking capabilities, he grabbed a fistful of soft spikes and yanked back, baring a pale, slender neck – the General wasted no time, nipping at a fluttering pulse barely visible beneath pale skin. Strife moaned louder this time.

"Beg."

The order made Strife shiver deliciously, tightening around Sephiroth even more. The General would have been impressed if he believed that the blond was doing it on purpose, if the cadet was trying to beat the General at his own game.

He bit again, hard, almost breaking skin, before slamming the blond head into the desk. Strife didn't cry out at the rough treatment, so Sephiroth tightened his grip further on slender hips and soft hair.

"Beg for it, slut."

Already tight muscles spasmed around his length, and it was all Sephiroth could do not to just give in to temptation.

"Please…" it was soft and hoarse, Strife's throat working as though to swallow saliva to lubricate a passage dried out by constant pants and moans.

It was the most beautiful song Sephiroth had ever heard.

And that was all he needed, all he could take. He started slamming into the blond hard, knowing the cadet's arousal must be hitting the table painfully with each thrust, not caring because he preferred to grip bruisingly tight on pale hips and golden hair as he fucked the cadet hard.

Strife's moans were getting louder and louder, but Sephiroth wanted to hear the magic word one more time before letting the boy cum.

He stilled suddenly with a quick twist, and Strife screamed in desperate need.

"Please! Please please please General please!"

It was raw, needy, and exactly what Sephiroth had been waiting for.

He obliged then, mostly because he wanted to unload in the boy too. But the cadet didn't need to know that.

He increased his speed, making sure to hit the blond's prostate with each thrust, with each time he pulled out almost fully. Deep, hard, fast, it was how he liked it, and he knew the blond liked it too.

As the blond neared his release, Sephiroth shoved his face harder into the table, before yanking the boy's head back and arching him painfully. The General bent slightly, still thrusting, biting hard on a pale neck and drawing blood this time, even as his hand moved forward to shove two fingers into an open mouth and mimicking the movements of his length.

It was enough to drive the lithe cadet over the edge. Strife screamed Sephiroth's name as he came hard over the usually pristine desk, thick white liquid splattering onto smudged, crumpled papers and dark wood.

The spasmodic tightening around him, the way the blond was shaking in his release, the echo of his name cried out by perfect lips, it was all too much. Sephiroth held his release off a while more, framing slender hips with both hands, holding tight and just slamming that perfect ass onto his member brutally again and again and again until he finally came, Mako-tinged cum mixing with the cadet's blood and filling the boy with himself.

He bit the blond hard once more, harder than he had before, just so he wouldn't say anything stupid – as far gone as the blond was Strife still gave a shaky, pained moan.

And then Sephiroth woke up.

He was lying face down in his massive bed – thank God he was alone – and he had a fist wrapped around his still-throbbing length, thick warm liquid covering himself and the satin sheets. His heart thundered still, the dream had been so vivid, so real, every thing about Strife so authentic that he swore he could still smell the boy, could still hear Strife's soft pants through his own fast breaths, could still feel soft skin under his hand.

But it was only his satin sheets and himself in his majestic room, and after awhile he rolled over, throwing an arm across his eyes as though that might shield him from the reality that he just had the best imaginary sex of his life with a boy almost 10 years his junior.

Sephiroth really wanted to kill someone.

/Several buildings away in the Shinra compound, a breathless blond started awake. He was sweating profusely, breath coming in harsh pants, shock at the sudden awareness slowly stilling his shivers. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, Cloud still attempted to listen for the sounds of slumbering bunk-mates, terror at possibly having been heard not helping him calm himself.

He prayed then – prayed that no one had heard him, that no one _knew_, and strained his ears as he remained as still and unmoving as possible face-first on his bunk with a mouthful of coarse pillow.

At length his heartbeat and breathing slowed enough, and as he listened to the quiet, steady breaths around him, the slight rustling of movements as some bunkmates shifted positions in their sleep, he calmed more. It didn't seem as though anyone was aware, it didn't seem as though he had woken anyone up. But there was one person who was probably as adept as, if not more than, him at feigning sleep – and Cloud finally allowed himself to shift position and peek at where he knew Reno's bunk was.

It was dark in the bunks, and not for the first time he wished he had his Mako enhancements to back him up, but the glow would give him away too, so he strained his eyes until he thought he could make out the shape of the other boy. There was a steady rise and fall of breath, soft breathing, and the boy was in his regular sleeping position. Cloud still watched for awhile, counting the seconds, knowing that even though the future Turk was good at acting, he had more of something than the red-head: Patience. After five minutes of silent waiting and watching, and only seeing Reno shift a little in his sleep, Cloud deemed it safe enough to rise soundlessly. He padded out of the bunk and down the hallway towards the bathrooms, glancing around cautiously, but no one was awake. He didn't know what time it was but it seemed too dark for this time of year to be his regular waking time.

He washed up as silently and quickly as possible, cursing under his breath at not bringing a change of skivvies because now he'd have to sleep with a wet patch in his underwear, but there was nothing he could do – rummaging for clothes now would likely wake Reno up and he didn't want to have to explain why he was changing out of stained underwear in the dead of the night.

He splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it helping to shake off the last vestiges of the most vivid dream he'd had in years. As he bent over the sink, bracing himself on arms that still quivered slightly, droplets of water slipping and sliding along his face like caresses of a phantom lover, he became aware of a pain in his neck, and a faint but familiar smell.

Glancing in the mirror, his eyes widened in shock, and his heartbeat sky-rocketed again.

There, on his neck, were three sets of perfect bite-marks and blood leaking from two of them. As Cloud stared in shock, they started to heal and close, fading under his alarmed gaze until there was nothing left to prove that it had been anything more than his imagination. He lifted a pale, shaky hand and touched his neck gingerly, as though anything more than the softest of touches might shatter this illusion, and as he watched in the mirror his trembling hand wiped away the blood to reveal pristine, unmarred skin. Cloud didn't want to admit it, but that cold hand wrapped around his heart was more than likely terror now. He was going crazy again, he was seeing things that weren't there again, but as he lifted his hand up to eye-level he could still see the blood on it, could still smell the tang of proof that it hadn't been a dream, that it had been real; but he reminded himself that he of all people should know how well his mind could play tricks on him when fuelled with such strong desire – and the desire HAD been strong – and the only way to know that it was really blood he was seeing on his hand would be to wake another cadet and have them tell him that yes, it was blood.

_Don't be stupid_.

Except it was hard to be rational when everything that had been happening recently defied all bounds of common sense.

_Breathe. Just breathe_.

He could do that.

Cloud didn't know how long he stood there, taking deep breaths until his breathing and heartbeat slowed to a reasonable level, until the shaking stopped, until the blood dried and crusted where it had smeared over his palm. The sun would probably be rising soon, and he had to get started on his personal training, but still he found himself immobile before the mirror, staring at the dark marks on his hand and wondering if he should wash it off or keep it as a memento – but that would be delusional, like one of those crazy fans who purchased sweat-stained socks of their idols off stores swearing they were authentic – so he turned the tap back on and scratched the blood off with his fingernails.

When he looked back up in the mirror, it was just him – hair slightly mussed – but just him. No marks, no blood, nothing out of the ordinary.

_Just a dream._

He pushed away the twinge of _something_ at that thought. Time to train.

_Goodbye my Almost Lover._

The next lines of the song were too depressingly true to think about. A good workout was what he needed.

Cloud refused to think about the workout he'd just had. It wasn't real. It was just wishful thinking.

It was wonderful.

**A/N (1):** I normally post only upon reaching 20,000+ words. But I've been so swamped that to even get this far took me forever. And I've had no time to work on it more so thank you for understanding! I've been trying to get back to this fic but sometimes when I'm so busy thinking about work (when I'm not at work) it's hard to get the momentum going for this fic.

**A/N (2):** Quick reminder: the Keysi Fighting Method was used in Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. I've kept with the Batman references because I'm a fan.

**A/N (3):** I wasn't actually around for the 70's, but I referenced the many protests of the era in the hand-to-hand training bit.

**A/N (4):** The "pretty little cadet" line in the SephCloud section was taken off a review by Axiam – "one day, [Sephiroth] won't be able to resist the urge to just jump the pretty cadet". I liked it so much I _had_ to use it.

**A/N (5):** SephCloud goodness for everyone! Just because I couldn't wait for them to shaggy-shaggy-boom-boom either – so sue me but they're HOT together and this IS a SephCloud fic.

** A/M (6)*** NEW!: **I've had a few reviews about how uncomfortable it would be if Seph used an unsheathed blade on Cloud. I apologize for not making this clearer before - the balisong/butterfly knife is like a pocket/switch blade. The blades are hidden in the handles, and unless they are unlatched they stay safely hidden.

**A/N (7):** The "breathe, just breathe" thought line is from the song by Anna Nalick entitled "Breathe" – the first line of the song is a reference to the estimated time that Cloud woke from the "dream".

**A/N (8):** "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy – the lines after "Goodbye my Almost Lover" are "goodbye my hopeless dream/ I'm trying not to think about it/ can't you just let me be/ so long my luckless romance/ my back is turned on you/ should've known you'd just bring me heartache/ almost lovers always do".

**A/N (9):** As I'm an intensely visual person, I've been meaning to draw a picture of Cloud and the boys in class – looking all gangster and cool, leaning back in the back row, and just being awesome. But again - Real Life got in my way. Would anyone else be able to do it?

**A/N (910:** I have decided to go pro – and I'd like to thank you all for giving me the confidence I needed to chase my dreams of becoming a writer. I WILL be continuing this story, and I'll see it through to the end since Cloud deserves a happy ending - and I'm not rich enough to buy SquareEnix and force them to do my bidding (yet) but I will also be focusing on writing my own original novel, so updates might come less frequently (as if they already aren't) here. See you all next chapter!


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